


Secret of Change

by afreezingnote



Series: Building the New [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Scruffy Pendragon Fest (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 08:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24347836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afreezingnote/pseuds/afreezingnote
Summary: Cultural shifts begin in Camelot when Arthur is named prince regent. Arthur’s appearance is an added outward difference as the kingdom adjusts to the governance of a new leader, the removal of the rule limiting knighthood to nobles, and the idea that one day a commoner might be queen.When a lazy morning kiss leads to a string of love confessions and revealed secrets, even more change will come.Or the Scruffy Arthur fic that has the shaving scene with a twist. Alternatively, the one where Merlin teaches Arthur how to eat a girl out.
Relationships: Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen/Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Building the New [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871146
Comments: 31
Kudos: 161
Collections: Scruffy Pendragon Fest





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though we know the scruffy Arthur photos are probably from an earlier version of The Wicked Day, I'm taking the liberty of placing this in the missing year after The Coming of Arthur Pt. 2. So, Lancelot is still alive and Agravaine isn't around yet.
> 
> Read for editing purposes by my bestie, acardcalledhope, and silvermyfanwy who kindly volunteered to brit-pick for me shortly after this was first posted. Any mistakes left are my own. 
> 
> If it needs to be said, I do not own these characters and make no profit from this work save fun. If this story appears anywhere other than Archive of Our Own, it has been reposted without my consent.

_"The secret of change is to focus all your energy not on fighting the old,  
_ _but on building the new."_ — Dan Millman

  
Regency had settled heavily on Arthur, and it showed in his appearance. 

He hadn’t bothered to make his customary appointment with the citadel’s chief barber a few weeks back. His hair had grown longer than Merlin had ever seen it. The fringe that usually stopped above his eyebrows could obscure his eyes entirely if Arthur didn’t sweep it out of the way.

Arthur also frequently neglected shaving, which was the only one of his grooming habits that he always handled himself, without fail, at least every other day. He could dress himself, comb his own hair, and bathe unaided, but much of the time he had Merlin perform these tasks anyway. Merlin had asked, years ago, why Arthur didn’t have the barber shave him. Arthur had replied matter-of-factly, “When you’ve studied the sword as long as I have, it goes against hard-bought instincts to allow another man to hold a blade to your throat.” These days, Arthur sported stubble more often than not.

He’d lost weight as well. The difference was slight enough that most would not notice amid the other more obvious shifts in his features. Seeing to the running of the realm meant Arthur had to hand over leading the training of the knights to Leon most days though he trained no less himself. Whenever he could find no other time, Arthur was sure to be found hacking at a straw dummy until it was too dark to see. On top of that, Merlin returned many of his meal trays to the kitchens barely picked at, and he worried. 

The dark circles under Arthur’s eyes were the most telling change of all. The stresses of new responsibilities, the concern for his father’s health, and worsening sleeplessness converged into an exhaustion Arthur couldn’t seem to shake.

Merlin had taken to trying to relieve some of these troubles as best he could. He now waited a bit longer to wake Arthur with breakfast, puttering around the room quietly completing small chores before rousing the prince regent with more gentleness than his usual method of shouting while flinging open the curtains.

He'd delayed as long as he could this morning already. He refreshed the water in Arthur's washing basin then filled a goblet as well, turning to place it on Arthur's bedside table. 

He found Arthur watching him with his chin propped up on one hand. 

"Good morning, my lord."

"Hello, Merlin." A small smile graced Arthur's lips for a moment, and he sat up, extricating himself from the sheets and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. 

"Breakfast is ready for you," Merlin said. He set the goblet down and shifted to step away.

Arthur caught his wrist to stay him. Merlin peered at him quizzically, but Arthur just smiled again, brief and soft, before hooking his fingers around the point of his neckerchief and tugging him down, right into a kiss. 

Merlin froze, every thought in his head stuttering into silence. Before he realised his motionlessness, Arthur was drawing away, mumbling an apology. 

“Don’t be stupid. You surprised me. I never thought—I didn’t think that you—” Merlin trailed off. 

“It was welcome then?”

“Yes.” 

"Good." Arthur stood, bringing their bodies close, and kissed Merlin again. 

This time, Merlin responded, relishing that these were Arthur's lips moving against his, Arthur's hand cradling the nape of his neck, _oh gods_ , Arthur sucking dirty at his bottom lip. 

One of his own hands found purchase in Arthur’s hair and the other in a bunch of fabric at Arthur’s shoulder. As a jolt of heat licked at his belly, Merlin pulled away, letting his fingers graze Arthur's arm as he leaned back. 

“As welcome as it is," Merlin said, "I think we should talk first.”

“Alright,” Arthur said. “Eat with me?”

Sharing a meal fit for a royal was tempting enough, but Merlin knew that he could ensure Arthur actually ate some of his own food, so he was doubly happy to oblige.

**\---:|||:---**

Arthur waited to speak while Merlin transferred food from the tray to Arthur’s plate, selected some for himself, and sat down. “What would you like to talk about?” he asked.

Merlin had never dared to hope that Arthur might act on the want that simmered under the affection they shared, so he had never prepared himself to confront it. Nor had he prepared for the careening certainty that rose in him that, if Arthur wanted to pursue a courtship with him, he would not enter a deeper relationship with secrets between them.

Just as he knew where the conversation must end, there was only one place to begin.

“Gwen to start,” Merlin said.

“Guinevere knows how I feel about you. This would not trouble her.”

“How can you be sure?”

“We’ve spoken about it,” Arthur said. “We discussed it in great detail one of the times we went riding with George along. You were helping Gaius during that outbreak of sweating sickness.”

“That was ages ago,” Merlin said.

“Yes. Guinevere told me frankly that she would not make me give you up,” Arthur said. “She was surprised when I told her you were not mine to keep, which is how I found out the whole castle, including my father, thinks that I’ve been tumbling you since the beginning.”

“I suppose it was too much to hope your father hadn’t heard that rumor.”

“You knew?”

“How could I not? Only a handful of the servants even try to keep your name out of their mouths, and Ephram and your old hangerson started hounding me about it every chance they got once they heard,” Merlin said. “But all that is beside the point. You were saying about your conversation with Gwen?”

Merlin had cut into an apple, and he snuck half of it onto Arthur’s plate as he took a bite from his own portion.

“We’ll get back to that in a moment. That lot bothered you?” Arthur asked as he dusted breadcrumbs off his fingers and picked up the apple, seeming not to notice where it had come from. 

“Only for as long as I tried to ignore it.”

“So what happened then?”

“Well, I may have let my mouth get away from me, as I do,” Merlin said. “And I may have said something outrageously lewd before asking Ephram if he was so interested because he’d rather it was him you were bending over.”

An incredulous bark of laughter escaped Arthur. “And he didn’t beat you bloody?”

“Oh, he wanted to,” Merlin replied, “but I suggested, very innocently mind you, that it might displease you if he did. They’ve not troubled me since.”

“Bruta’s balls, Merlin, no wonder Guinevere had ideas.”

Merlin lifted one shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “No one would’ve believed it if we’d tried to deny it, so it hardly mattered either way,” he said. “About Gwen’s ideas?”

“After I told her we weren’t involved, she was quiet for a moment,” Arthur said, recounting the memory. 

_Gwen plucked a few grapes from a bunch but set them all down without eating any. She brushed over the back of Arthur’s hand, pausing over his knuckles before beginning to toy with his fingers._

_“Do you wish Merlin was yours?” Gwen asked. “Tell me truly, Arthur. You’ve no need to pretend with me.”_

_Arthur hesitated a long moment before admitting, “I do want him. I’ve always wanted him.”_ _  
__  
__“Is wanting really all it is?”_

_“No, I suppose it isn’t,” Arthur said. “I care for him a great deal. Along with you, I trust him more than anyone.”_

_“With the way you are together, the way you look at each other, it’s clear there’s something special there,” Gwen said. She bit her bottom lip thoughtfully. “I don’t think it’s something you’ll be able to ignore forever, and I think it’s better for us to acknowledge it now and plan accordingly.”_

_“What’s to plan?” Arthur asked._

_“If—when things change between you, I want you to feel free to pursue it with my full permission,” Gwen answered._

“She gave us her blessing,” Arthur said, concluding his explanation. “There was a bit more, but I think that part would be better for her to tell you herself.”

Even as he listened, part of Merlin’s mind churned over the confession he intended to make. He’d dispensed with trying to eat and had taken to rolling the bottom edge of an empty goblet in tight semi-circles to help that restlessness escape him. "What does keeping me entail?" he asked.

"It could mean a couple of things. We need Guinevere to have that conversation fully," Arthur said. He lightly touched the back of Merlin's hand, stilling his fidgeting, and clasped their fingers together on the tabletop. He traced his thumb over Merlin's knuckles until Merlin looked at him. Arthur held his gaze pointedly and leaned closer. "But either way, I love you, and I want you for as long as you'll have me."

“And if that’s forever?” Merlin asked, his voice hushed and solemn. All that he had wished for was closer now than ever before. To reach for it would be to dare, to gamble. All or nothing?

“Then you’ll be putting up with me for eternity.”

Arthur wore the smirk he got when he could see his victory at hand. Merlin prayed he’d get to see that gratified expression many more times.

“I love you with all that I am,” Merlin said. He squeezed Arthur's fingers before sliding his hand and eyes away. He settled both hands in his lap, using the distance to brace himself. “But I’m more than you imagine. I don’t know if you can accept all of me or forgive me for the secrets I’ve kept and the mistakes I’ve made.”

“You won’t know until you tell me.”

Merlin glanced at Arthur and found only open sincerity on his face. Somehow that made it harder. 

"Yes, but—" Merlin's breath hitched, his calm failing. "I'm scared." He felt his eyes well up and fought not to spill any tears. 

"Of what?"

"Losing you," Merlin said. "That this will break your trust irreparably."

"Merlin, just tell me." Arthur's arm twitched as if wishing to reach out again. He'd marked Merlin's withdrawal and worry scrunched his brows.

Merlin clutched hard at the fabric of his breeches and clenched his jaw. A series of tears streaked down his cheeks despite his struggle to keep them at bay. 

“I’m—” Merlin began. His throat ached as he tried to force out the words. “I’m a sorcerer. I have magic.”

He saw surprise register in Arthur’s eyes before his face slackened and Merlin could read nothing more from him.

Time stretched interminably as Merlin awaited a reaction, but Arthur did not speak or move, lost in a sightless detachment that suggested contemplation. Merlin dabbed the moisture from his eyes but otherwise sat subdued. 

This quiet interlude was not what he had expected. When he allowed himself to think of revealing his magic at all, he rarely managed to conjure an idyllic fantasy where Arthur showed curiosity and wonder. Mostly, he imagined Arthur angry. And hurt. And defensive. Ready to banish Merlin from his sight or, worse still, from the kingdom.

Finally, anticipation drove him to break the tension. “Arthur, say something,” he implored.

Arthur blinked slowly as focus returned. The expression he turned on Merlin held something calculating in it. “Prove it,” he said.

Merlin straightened in his chair and glanced around them uncertainly. Would it matter what spell he picked to first perform magic before Arthur? Could fate hinge on such minutiae? As always, he didn’t have the time to consider it.

His eyes fell on the pitcher he’d brought up with breakfast. He decided on a trick he’d done a thousand times to amuse himself in childhood, a harmless, even pretty, casting. He made a ribbon of wine spring above the rim of the pitcher, twirl in a corkscrew spiral as it rose, and complete a loop in midair before landing, without a stray droplet, in the goblet by his hand.

“Again.”

Merlin knew without asking that Arthur did not mean moving the wine. With a thought, he doused all the candles and sconces he’d lit by hand when he came in. He reignited the flames with another flash of his eyes.

“Again.”

An instinct he couldn’t name urged Merlin to open his hand and conjure a ball of blue light. Arthur inhaled sharply.

“I always knew there was something about you, something more. This makes sense. It fits,” Arthur said. He gestured toward the glowing orb now floating between them. “I recognise that from the Caves of Balor. All the times you spoke of protecting me, you weren’t being fanciful, were you? How many times have you saved my life?”

“I lost count a long time ago.”

“Merlin, I—I don’t know what to say,” Arthur began. He dragged a hand through his hair, leaving it rakishly ruffled. “I suppose ‘thank you’ might be a good place to start. I’m equally humbled and baffled by your loyalty. I’m not sure I deserve it, but I’m grateful for it.”

“It sounds like something out of a bad bard’s comedy, doesn’t it? A sorcerer falls in love with the prince of Camelot. Have to be one idiot sorcerer.”

“This is you we’re talking about, isn’t it?” Arthur remarked, startling a chuckle out of Merlin.

“Are you not angry with me?” Merlin asked.

“I don’t know,” Arthur said. “I could sense you held part of yourself back all this time. Right now, I mostly just feel...relieved, I suppose, to finally know.”

“I’ve wanted to tell you for so long.”

“I understand why you didn’t. I don’t blame you. I’ve given you little reason to think it would be safe to confide in me where magic is concerned, but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since my father’s decline. I don’t believe that everyone who practices magic is evil. You are that point proven.”

“You mean that?”

“I do.” Arthur looked to the window and saw that day had broken over the citadel. “It’s clear we have more to discuss than I anticipated, but I must prepare for council. Inform the steward I intend to hunt this afternoon. We may talk without interruption outside the city walls, if you would have horses ready for us after the meeting?”

“I will, my lord.”

**\---:|||:---**

After Arthur departed, Merlin stood in the middle of the room, aimless and unfocused. Several minutes passed before he managed to quiet the jumble of his thoughts enough to see to the tasks at hand.

First, he stopped by the steward’s office to notify him of the regent’s planned outing. 

Holden, who had served as Uther’s longtime personal servant before Merlin had come to Camelot, had been promoted after the former steward had passed. As might be expected, Holden was a stern but fair man who ran a tight ship. He had charge of scheduling the duties of the royal household, disciplining infractions among the servants, and keeping record of all the material goods that came into and out of the castle. He also maintained the royal accounts concerning payment of the staff as well as conducting interviews for potential new hires.

Having picked up the slack left after Morgana’s betrayal, Guinevere inherited the position of Housekeeper, essentially working as Holden’s direct assistant to manage the day-to-day running of the castle in a more hands-on role. Since the king had never selected another manservant, Holden, Gwen, and Merlin were now the highest ranked members of the royal household staff, answering only to Arthur and Uther. 

When Merlin had first gained employment as Arthur’s personal servant, Holden had disapproved of him greatly. While he couldn’t reprimand Merlin directly without permission, he’d often taken the opportunity to lecture him on propriety and deference to station. However, he was astute enough to notice that Arthur repeatedly chose not to penalise Merlin as a prince was expected to and recognised a losing battle when he saw one, which eventually led him to shift his attitude toward Merlin into something passing for cordial. 

“I’ll send George to attend Arthur at council, if you can tell me where I might find him,” Merlin said. After a moment’s pause, he gave into a gut decision and added a second inquiry. “Guinevere as well, please.”

Holden scanned the weekly duty roster pinned to the wall by his desk. “George is among those refreshing the guest chambers in the East Wing this morning,” he said. “Guinevere will be checking in with the seamstresses. Should I pass on wishes for a fruitful hunt to Prince Arthur?” 

Holden understood that Arthur’s excursions were sometimes only an excuse for the prince to escape the citadel for a time and posed the question to ascertain if the kitchens should expect fresh game.  
  
“Not today,” Merlin said. “Thank you.”

Having done that, Merlin tracked down George, spoke to him about his reassignment for the morning, and went in search of Gwen all the while traversing the halls in a daze of distraction. By the time he found her in the corridor between the workrooms for the seamstresses and laundresses, he’d resolved the discussion he wanted to have with her, if only in the back of his mind.

“Merlin, good morning!” Gwen called in greeting, gifting him a customary bright smile.

“Hey,” Merlin said, his answering smile a bit more tentative than usual.

“What brings you all the way over here?” she asked when they drew nearer to each other.

“I was hoping you had a moment to talk,” he said.

“Of course.”

“Somewhere private.”

Gwen nodded and steered them toward one of the back passageways she knew would get little use at this time of day. They stopped by one of the brazier alcoves.

“What’s on your mind?” Gwen asked.

The window at the end of the hall scattered slices of light on the floor. Merlin noted the pattern as he pondered how to begin. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and looked up at Guinevere.

“I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll be blunt. Arthur kissed me this morning and told me that he loves me,” Merlin said. A look of surprised delight lit her face and bolstered his confidence to carry on. “He said that the two of you had discussed that possibility and that you’d be fine with it. I wanted to hear it from you.”

“I despaired of him ever talking to you. There’s been a lot on his mind of late, I know, but I’m pleased he finally decided,” Gwen said.

“So you really don’t mind?”

“No, I’m happy for you. Anyone with working eyes could see how much you mean to each other.”

“Not that I’m not grateful—I am—but I don’t understand. He’s to be your husband. Why would you let us have this?”

Gwen opened her mouth to answer, paused, and seemed to reconsider her reply. “Did Arthur mention anything else?” she asked.

“Only that there’s something we should discuss with you.”

“Good, there is more, but it will keep. The two of you should have a chance to savour this first,” Gwen said. She took both of Merlin’s hands in hers. “I’ve come to understand that love is not as simple as we want it to be, and that can be a good thing. I believe that’s true in our case. I want you to enjoy this without guilt. Is that enough for now to ease your mind?”

He squeezed her fingers and smiled wryly. “I think so,” he said. 

Gwen inclined her head in the direction they’d come from, wordlessly inviting him to accompany her. As they fell into step, she nudged him with her elbow.

“So, how was it?” she asked with mischief clear on her face. 

Merlin raised an eyebrow though he doubted it carried half the eloquence of Gaius’s trademark expressions. “The kiss?”

Gwen hummed in confirmation through a widening smirk.

“You’ve kissed him. You know what it’s like,” Merlin said.

She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t take you for a prude, _Mer_ lin,” she said, imitating Arthur’s inflection of his name.

A surge of affection for her crested in his chest, the wave so enormous that, for a moment, he didn’t know what to do with himself. Following on that swell, he felt the wild urge to press kisses to her hand, her cheek, her— Merlin cut the thought off and pushed it away. He engaged her playful banter seamlessly despite the mental intrusion, planting a hand on one hip while feigning a haughty scoff. “I’ll have you know he kissed me twice,” he said and then yielded the details. 

Gwen laughed as he described the rather botched first kiss. “He kissed you and you called him stupid? That’s on the mark for you two,” she said.

“The second go was a lot nicer,” Merlin said.

Gwen linked their arms as he continued. They walked that way until they reached the main corridors where they parted for their separate errands.

Merlin had little more to do. He left instructions with Lida, the cook’s most trusted helper, to send George up with simple fare for Arthur’s lunch and to delay preparation of the evening meal by two candlemarks. While in the kitchens, he scavenged something to eat himself.

**\---:|||:---**

Once he had collected and filled their waterskins, Merlin headed to the stables. Though mucking out the stalls was an onerous duty, Merlin did like to spend time with the horses. 

The Pendragons owned perhaps a dozen horses, including the white mare Morgana had ridden and Saffron, the bay mare now reserved for Merlin, but three of them belonged to Arthur personally. 

Sicrach, a dappled grey stallion, was Arthur’s preferred mount for tournaments, ceremonies, and any event which called for ostentation. In battle, when a unique colored horse would be a disadvantage, Arthur rode his other stallion, Hengroen. The massive destrier had a deep chestnut coat with a dark mane and tail, but it was his unshakeably calm temperament that set him apart.

Merlin would ready Arthur’s mare, Llamrai, for their trip today. Llamrai’s coat was a lustrous, solid black. Her beauty was matched by a high-spirited intensity that made her aloof from most humans. She adored Arthur, tolerated Rickard, the stablemaster, and suffered the presence of few others until Merlin, who managed to win her over without effort.

The first time Arthur had brought him to the stables and instructed him to saddle their horses, he’d probably expected Llamrai to knock him on his arse, but she had nuzzled his chest even as he fumbled through the unfamiliar task.

Arthur had huffed in disbelief and mumbled, “You must be alright, if Llamrai likes you.”

Merlin smiled at the memory as he checked their tack. He only realised he’d started humming, as he often did over busywork when in good-humour, at some point as he cinched the girth beneath his mare. He’d straightened up and started scratching behind Saffron’s ears fondly when he saw Lancelot walking toward the castle.

“Lancelot!” he called, the greeting coming out before he knew he intended it.

Lancelot’s head turned toward the shout before his body did. He grinned when he spotted Merlin and immediately changed direction.

“Are you busy?” Merlin asked as Lancelot stepped into the shade of the stables.

“I’ve just come off a perimeter guard rotation. I’ve no plans,” he said. He narrowed his eyes at Merlin curiously. “You look fit to burst. What is it?”

“Arthur knows.”

It took a moment for understanding to hit. Lancelot’s face fell and his eyes widened. “What?” he asked in a harsh, horrified whisper. He darted a glance at Saffron saddled next to Merlin. Disbelief and panic sped a rush of questions. “Are you alright? Are you leaving? Do you need help?”

Merlin held up his hand in a placating gesture. “It’s not like that. I told him on purpose,” he explained.

Lancelot let out a shaky laugh. “By the gods, Merlin, you could have led with that. You’re not in the dungeons. Should I take that as a good sign?”

“Sorry! Sorry, I couldn’t hold it in,” Merlin said. “I’m stunned by how well he’s taking it. We’re riding somewhere to talk once council lets out.”

“Should I prepare to come to your rescue?”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “You know very well I can take care of myself. Arthur wants to listen. I don’t think he would try to do me any harm.”

“Nor do I,” Lancelot said. “He has a good heart, and he cares for you.” 

“Yes, he does,” Merlin said. As he moved to gather Llamrai’s tack, the sound of chatter rose outside, a clear indication that council had dismissed.

“Will you tell him that I know?” Lancelot asked.

“I mean to tell him everything.”

Lancelot nodded. The pensive look on his face prompted Merlin to conciliate him.  
  
“He will not think less of you. We have both always acted in the interest of Camelot, so you have not broken your oath,” Merlin said. “Besides, it’s not as if it’s exactly secret that you and Gwaine would do anything for me.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Lancelot said with a sheepish half-smile.

“You should leave the nerves to me. I’m the one about to spill my guts to our future king.”

“You don’t seem anxious.”

“I am a bit,” Merlin said. “I’m sure it’ll get worse once I have to start talking, but right now I feel more hopeful about this whole destiny lark of ours than I have in a long time.”

“I’m glad for you,” Lancelot said. “You deserve the highest honours of any among us. It is right that Arthur see you for all you are.”

**\---:|||:---**

Lancelot walked with Merlin as he led the horses into the courtyard but bid him farewell and good luck when they saw Arthur exit the doors of the Grand Entrance. Arthur fended off conversation from several nobles as he descended the steps.

He carried the remnants of his lunch, which appeared to be a couple of slices of meat and cheese selected from whatever the kitchens sent shoved between the halves of a roll. Between the final bites, Arthur grumbled, “Did you have to leave George to sort my leathers?”

“Would you have eaten anything at all if they’d already been ready?” Merlin asked.

Arthur scowled but didn’t deny it. “Probably not.”

“Then I had to,” Merlin said as he handed Arthur Llamrai’s reins.

**\---:|||:---**

Neither of them disturbed the quiet as they set out, following a path Arthur seemed to know well. He guided them onto a deer trail shortly after entering the forest, but they didn’t stay on it long, cutting back through the trees between two moss-covered stones. 

They finally stopped beside a stream boasting a small waterfall. Merlin secured the horses by the bank where they could graze and still reach the water to drink before joining Arthur where he’d settled against a fallen trunk facing the stream.

“I have many questions, but perhaps it would be best to save them until I hear the whole story,” Arthur said.

“You’ve probably guessed a good deal of what I have to tell you,” Merlin said, “but I wonder how far back I should go to begin. I suppose all I need to say to preface my time in Camelot is that I must be something out of your father’s worst nightmares, having been a newborn child able to perform unconscious magic. My mother sent me here in the hope that I could learn to control the reflexivity of my abilities and find some purpose under Gaius’s supervision.”

As Merlin relayed his side of their shared history, he aimed for unvarnished honesty, enumerating events and attempting to explain his choices as neutrally as possible. The susurrus of the leaves in the light breeze and the burble of the water blended into a simple tranquility that soothed Merlin’s magical senses. The words came easier even in the most difficult parts of his tale with the low buzz of nature humming around him.

When he finished his narration, the play of light and shadow that slipped through the trees to dance on the surface of the stream indicated that the afternoon had sunk into early evening. 

Arthur didn’t comment immediately once it was clear Merlin had no more to say, and Merlin didn’t press him. It was a lot to process. But he broke the silence sooner than Merlin expected.

“You fear that I will not trust you because of the mistakes you feel you’ve made?” Arthur asked.

Merlin nodded.

“It seems to me that you have faced a number of king’s choices, and you have made them, alone and unrecognised, while prioritising the welfare of the kingdom. And keeping your secrets,” Arthur said. “What more could you ask of yourself?” 

Merlin pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. His fingers found the seam at the crease of his leg and started worrying the fabric. “There are so many things I could have done differently,” he said. 

“It is easy to say so after the fact, once doubt works at you. You are most troubled, I think, by Morgana and the dragon, am I right?”

“Yes.”

“In those moments with the threat imminent and appearing insurmountable, what could you have changed in your actions?”

“I don’t know.”

“I know what it is to bear that weight, and I will not wear the face of your guilt. You have to make peace with the blame you assign yourself as best you can, as any man with power must.”

“Have any trade secrets?” Merlin asked.

Arthur chuckled. “No more than those I imagine you’ve discovered the hard way,” he said. “Though perhaps we could try something new together. I hear a burden shared lends a lessened load.”

“If you would have me,” Merlin said, “it would be my honour.”

“Have no doubt of your welcome,” Arthur said. He stood and offered a hand to Merlin to help him up. “You may be a strange, fae creature, but you’re still my Merlin. I cannot change the law while I am regent, but when I am king, things will be different, I swear it. Your people will be free and you will have a place by my side.”

The spark of joy that roared to life in Merlin revealed itself in a smile that hurt his cheeks. 

“Arthur, thank you,” Merlin said. The prick of tears—overwhelmed, happy tears—stung his eyes. “I can’t describe how much your acceptance means to me. I am relieved and so pleased. For a long time, it has been my dearest wish for you to know all of me, and now you do. And I—”

Words failed him, and all he could do was look at Arthur, helpless to go on and hopelessly in love.

Arthur still held the hand he had grasped to pull Merlin to his feet. He raised it, first to his lips to press a kiss to Merlin’s knuckles and then to tug Merlin against his chest. 

Merlin savoured the comfort of Arthur’s embrace longer than it took him to compose himself. He sniffed and swiped stray wet tracks from his cheeks. “We should head back, if we’re not to be too late for dinner,” he said, not bothering to lift his head.

Arthur made a sound of assent but was slow to let Merlin go.

Once settled in the saddle again and pointed homeward, the return trip seemed shorter than the journey from the castle.

Arthur paused before urging Llamrai back onto the deer trail. “Do you really believe in destiny, that together you and I are foretold to make Albion?” he asked.

“I do. I think we could accomplish anything together,” Merlin said.

“I think you may be right,” Arthur said. “Just this once.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is always welcome. If you'd like any additional tags included or spot any errors, please let me know, and I'll update asap.
> 
> Please know that while I have portions of the remaining chapters written and I know the plot points I want to meet, I tend to be a slow writer, so you'll have to bear with me. With that said, this is my first Merlin fic to see public eyes, and I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> If you'd like to find me on tumblr, unmarkedinlife is my Merlin blog where you'll find this [attention-grabber graphic](https://unmarkedinlife.tumblr.com/post/619097731002155008/secret-of-change-pairing-merlinarthurgwen) that you could reblog, if you were so inclined. I follow from balaszafiros.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited and brit-picked by silvermyfanwy whose insight I appreciate highly and cannot thank enough. Any mistakes left are my own.
> 
> This chapter does go explicit, so if anyone needs details about the sexual content included, here's a list of what to expect:
> 
> In the Merlin/Arthur scene - flirty tickling, mild dirty talk, frottage, handjobs, intercrural sex
> 
> In the Merlin/Arthur/Gwen scene - female masturbation, fingering, oral sex, frottage, handjobs, spanking, minor anal play, mild dirty talk

Following the full disclosure by the stream, Merlin and Arthur devoted their evenings to deep conversations. Sometimes they spoke of Merlin’s magical feats in greater detail. Sometimes they talked of more personal matters, delving into each other’s hopes and fears and dreams. Arthur asked a plethora of probing questions about Merlin’s abilities, searching out the scope of his power and its uses. In this way, the discussion about magic became inexplicably linked with plans for the future. 

Arthur, it seemed, had embraced the prophecy of their destiny wholeheartedly for he pondered on the hope to see the kingdoms united frequently. _“Pax Albionem,” Arthur said, a hushed reverence colouring his tone. “I had dismissed the idea as an idle reverie, unachievable in our time."_ When Arthur started speculating on possible scenarios through which they could accomplish that end with Merlin’s magic to help, a boyish excitement lit him from within. The sight made Merlin ache with fondness. 

Another feeling—the rare wonder of being understood—burgeoned inside him when he reflected that none of Arthur’s imagined strategies featured him as an offensive weapon.

A week of such frank communication brought their relationship a new sense of security and intimacy. With the flow of words, freer touches came as well.

So, Merlin was not surprised when Arthur, having woken on his own again that morning, came up behind him while he hung a clean set of clothes over the changing screen. Arthur snaked his arms around Merlin’s waist and brushed his lips over the shell of Merlin’s ear. 

“I notice how you care for me, how you fret over my rest and eating habits. I want you to know I appreciate it,” Arthur said, his voice near a whisper.

Merlin slid his hands over Arthur’s where they rested above his stomach. “Someone was recently telling me this idea of a burden shared. Might ring a bell?”

“Sage advice. But you’ve been my strongest support for a long time. You earned my complete trust as a friend before I knew you as a partner and a protector,” Arthur said. He held Merlin tighter against him for a moment. “I thought I might show you how grateful I am. If you’d like to come to bed?” 

He kissed Merlin’s neck above his kerchief. Merlin tilted his head absently, giving Arthur better access. “Do we have time for that?” Merlin asked.

“I’ve scheduled a set of meetings for midmorning, so Leon is handling drills again today. I’m free for a while.”

Merlin spared a fleeting thought to note the oddity of Arthur altering his agenda without letting Merlin know about the change, but he had more interesting things to think about just now.

“In that case...” Merlin let the thought dangle as he turned in Arthur’s arms and brought their lips together.

They’d exchanged kisses of greetings and goodbyes, mostly sweet and brief, since their first two, but this was a deeper, fiercer thing than those before.

Merlin felt Arthur’s fingers at his neck, searching without success for the knot securing his scarf.  
  
“It’s in the front,” Merlin said, still close enough to feel each breath between them.

Arthur huffed and let Merlin take over. “I don’t know if I should curse those things or be thankful they keep me from constant distraction.”

“Constant distraction, hmmm?” Merlin asked as he unwound the loops of his neckerchief and tossed it over the back of one of the chairs in front of the fireplace.

“Mmm,” Arthur hummed in confirmation. “The line of your throat is so long. Lovely. Tempting.” He punctuated each adjective with a kiss, trailing up from Merlin’s shoulder to the bolt of his jaw.

“Yeah?” Merlin slipped his hands beneath Arthur’s nightshirt, tracing the places he had so often grazed over through fabric. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Merlin’s tunic was tied loosely enough to bare his collarbones, and Arthur brushed warm, open-mouthed kisses over both protrusions while his fingers fell to the ties of Merlin's trousers. The laces parted easily, allowing Arthur room to roam beneath his waistband. He followed the dip at the small of Merlin’s back to massage the pliant slope of his arse cheeks. 

Merlin purred as he rocked into Arthur’s grip and grasped Arthur’s arms to steady himself. Then he pointedly kissed the smug look off Arthur’s face. “You mentioned the bed?” Merlin said. “Let’s go.”

Arthur let Merlin tug him across the room with an indulgent, crooked smirk playing on his lips. As soon as Merlin toed off his boots, Arthur intercepted him, intent on encouraging Merlin’s pants down his hips. Together, they removed all of Merlin's clothing, pausing between lingering kisses until, finally, Merlin whisked away Arthur's shift with the ease of repetition, leaving nothing more between them. 

Arthur impelled Merlin closer and skimmed his fingers up either side of Merlin’s spine to his broad, muscled shoulders.

Absorbed by the sensuality of the moment, Merlin didn't notice when eager fingers turned mischievous as Arthur swept him off his feet and tossed him on the bed. The landing, though soft, pushed a surprised noise from Merlin's throat. 

"You prat!" Merlin got no further before Arthur pounced on him. 

The position was a familiar one between them. Sparring sessions had occasionally devolved into inelegant hand-to-hand grappling, which soon enough transformed into good-natured wrestling matches outside the public eye. Experience let Merlin anticipate the moment in order to roll before Arthur could put his full weight atop him. Arthur allowed him to savour the successful maneuver for the span of a few exhales. Then he flipped Merlin deftly, pinned him, and used the advantage to attack, skittering fingertips along the indents of Merlin's ribs and tickling.

"No!" Merlin exclaimed as he tried to curl up defensively. "Arthur, no! You rogue! You fiend!" He broke off into a gasping fit of laughter. He shoved at Arthur's shoulders lazily and attempted to scowl in response to Arthur's luminous grin. The expression convinced neither of them. Merlin groaned and capitulated, relaxing into the mattress. "Mercy."

Arthur let up immediately and lowered himself until they were flush together from chest to calves. 

When he could breathe again, Merlin cupped Arthur's neck and kissed him, wet and thorough. He mapped the expanse of Arthur's back, stopping only to squeeze the swell of Arthur's arse. Merlin used his handfuls of firm flesh to urge Arthur's hips down. He met the motion with an upward thrust that brought their cocks together.

They moaned into each other's mouths at the contact, barely pausing before their lips met again, as if they could make up for lost time with enough kisses.  
  
Their concerted undulations slowed as Arthur propped himself up on his elbows.

“What do you want most?” he asked.  
  
Merlin replied without hesitation. “Want you inside me.”

The directness of his response brought Arthur up short, and he considered his words before responding. “I thought we might build up to that a bit,” he said. “Though if you’d rather not wait—”  
  
"We can, if you like,” Merlin said. “Just know I’m far from a blushing virgin.”  
  
“That doesn’t matter,” Arthur said. “Neither am I. But you’re special to me.”

Merlin’s expression turned tender and a fond smile tugged up the corners of his mouth. “Alright,” he said. “What're my options then?" 

"We could keep doing this," Arthur said, rocking down hard. "I could use my hand. You could have my thighs. My mouth."

"What a picture that would be, your mouth full and stretched around me,” Merlin said. His gaze briefly went distant with imagining. “But hands usually feel better to me, so—here, sit against the headboard."

After Arthur had reclined against the pillows, Merlin nudged his legs apart and sat between them, fitting himself along Arthur's front. He turned his face to catch Arthur's lips again. 

Merlin took Arthur’s hands and pressed his palms to the skin beneath his collarbones. "Touch me," Merlin whispered. 

Arthur let Merlin guide the descent as he slid his hands down Merlin's chest. He roved up when Merlin released him, taking the time to tweak Merlin’s nipples into peaks, and ventured down again to caress Merlin's thighs, teasing along the insides. He dragged the tip of one finger up Merlin's shaft and circled his tip with his thumb and forefinger.  
  
Merlin moaned. His hips hitched forward impatiently. Arthur held him still and made a few tantalising pulls before closing the whole of his hand around Merlin's cock and stroking him properly. 

The dual sensations of Arthur jerking him and the hard line of his cock against Merlin's back drove Merlin toward climax quickly, but he didn't want to come yet. 

"Wait," Merlin said. He stilled Arthur's hand with a touch and pinched the base of his own cock to stave off orgasm. "Will you fuck my thighs?" 

Arthur's harsh breath was answer enough. "There's a vial of oil in the side table," he said.

Merlin leaned across the bed to retrieve it. He knew where to look, having refilled this particular jar many times through the years, and he passed it to Arthur wordlessly.

"Lay on your side for me," Arthur said.

Merlin shifted into place and Arthur settled behind him. He tapped the back of Merlin's knee, silently asking him to lift his leg.

Merlin heard Arthur uncork the vial and felt as Arthur slicked him, brushing the cool liquid on his cock, over his balls and behind them, and between his legs.  
  
Arthur positioned himself before letting Merlin lower his leg, tightening the space enclosing his cock. He thrust once experimentally then readjusted his aim to rub across Merlin’s taint. Soon enough, he found a satisfying tempo to suit the angle.

Merlin, uninhibited, let loose strings of pleased sounds as they moved together.

Arthur groaned into his shoulder. “Listen to you,” he said. “I knew you’d be responsive, but this is better even than I imagined.”

"Oh, gods, Arthur," Merlin said. Arousal made his tone sibilant. "You feel good like this. So fucking good. I'm close." 

"Yeah?" Arthur loosened his grip on Merlin's hip and dropped his hand to stroke Merlin's cock again. "Want you to come for me.”

Merlin tensed in his arms as his cock began to pulse in Arthur's fist. A guttural noise tore from him and morphed into Arthur’s name. Merlin went pliant until his breathing calmed. Then he clenched his thighs and shoved back against Arthur. 

The added pressure and friction tipped Arthur over the edge. Panting from exertion, he held Merlin against him and found the steady thump of Merlin’s heartbeat beneath his palm. When the rhythm of his own heart slowed to a similar pace, he trailed a line of messy kisses along Merlin’s jaw and relaxed their embrace.

Merlin turned to face him, and Arthur draped an arm over his waist.

"Hey," Merlin said. He plucked at a lock of Arthur's hair and started twirling it.

"Hey yourself."

"That was fun."

"It was."

Merlin dropped his hand to Arthur’s bicep, beginning to trace swirls with the pad of his finger. "I worried it might be strange for us at first,” he said. “I'm glad it wasn't."

"Me too,” Arthur agreed and brushed a sweet, brief kiss against Merlin’s plush bottom lip. 

After he drew back, Merlin nuzzled their noses together. "Wanna do it again?" he asked.

"Yes, but later,” Arthur said. “Would you kill me if I suggested a bath?” 

“Not if you can deal with magicked water.”

“I’ve no objections.”

“Excellent,” Merlin said. “Your bath awaits your leisure, my love.”

Arthur, stunned first by the golden glimmer of Merlin’s eyes up close and then again by the endearment, responded belatedly. “I love you,” he said.

"I adore you, Arthur Pendragon. Go get in the bath. I'll wash your hair."

"Join me," Arthur said. "We'll wash each other."

Only a couple months ago, Arthur's request wouldn't have been feasible, but several of the noble houses had sent Arthur gifts in an effort to curry favor when he had been named regent. One such token came from the Lord and Lady of Chemary, whose lands boasted illustrious smiths, woodworkers, and wainwrights. They had commissioned two of the local artisans to craft an extravagantly large wooden tub banded together with ornamental ironwork. The piece had taken up half a wagon on its own on the journey to the citadel.

Filling and emptying it without magic was a nightmare that Merlin had thankfully never faced alone. Enjoying the frivolous luxury would be a welcome change.

"That sounds lovely."

**\---:|||:---**

They lingered in the water long enough that Merlin had to raise the temperature a second time. As they soaked, Merlin nearly fell asleep. The sound of Arthur's hand lifting from the water stirred him. He blinked muzzily as he debated the merits of sitting up, and without meaning to, voiced a question that had hovered in the recesses of his mind all week.

“The other day you mentioned that the shape of our relationship would depend on a conversation we need to have with Gwen,” Merlin said. “When should that happen, do you think?”

“Whenever you feel ready to have it,” Arthur said.

“I don’t know what it’s about, so I can’t rightly know if I feel ready, can I?”

“I suppose not. Gwen told me you talked to her.”  
  
“Yes, but she didn’t explain anything either.”

“Since it’s on your mind, it would be better to go ahead, I think,” Arthur said. “I can’t ask Guinevere to my chambers for a lengthy chat without inviting scurrilous gossip, so we need a public place where we can still speak privately.”

“Would lunch in the gardens work?” Merlin asked.

“Yes, that’s fitting,” Arthur said. 

He offered Merlin a rueful smile for not thinking of it himself. Merlin knew Arthur associated the palace gardens with the duty of entertaining noble ladies, often unwanted marriage prospects, who approached him with either overzealous flirtation, timid reluctance, or disdain. Naturally, they wouldn’t come to mind as a place of refuge for him.

“I’ll talk with Gwen and make the arrangements then.”

**\---:|||:---**

Two days passed before their schedules aligned to allow the three of them to meet for their planned lunch. Together, Gwen and Merlin selected a table off from the main pathways, which nestled on one side in an alcove in the outer hedges while flowering shrubs circled toward the walkway, creating an intimate space. 

Clarent, one of the younger serving boys, assisted them in carrying the meal outside. Gwen sent him away with the unloaded trays and quiet instructions to return later to collect the rest.

Even though the afternoon was mild, they saw few others strolling through the gardens. Feeling certain no one would overhear helped them all relax and enjoy their company. By unspoken agreement, they talked of casual topics while they ate.

Once they had all stopped picking at their food and fallen into a genial, though expectant, hush, Gwen pushed her plate toward the center of the table and broached the serious discussion.

“I kissed you once, Merlin. Do you remember?” she asked.

Merlin could recall the flash of sensation with few details, disoriented as he had been after waking from the fever, but he could never forget that it had happened. He understood afterward that he had captivated Gwen as instantly and thoroughly as she had charmed him.  
  
“Of course I do,” he said. “It was a memorable occasion.”

“When nothing ever came of it, I didn’t know if you weren’t interested or if you didn’t understand that I really liked you.” Gwen paused, biting her lip thoughtfully. “More than that. You were my first love. I think it would be easy to love you again, which brings us to what I wanted to propose. If we were all amenable, it need not only be a matter of you and me sharing Arthur. What I mean to say is, we could, the three of us, be together.” 

The thought gave him pause, more stunned at the sheer perfection of it than shocked by the idea. 

“You both want this?” Merlin asked.  
  
“Yes,” Arthur said. “We are certain. We only need your answer.”  
  
“I would like to say yes, but it isn’t so simple for me,” Merlin said, looking from Gwen to Arthur. “I told you because I could not imagine a deeper relationship built on deception. Gwen deserves the same.”  
  
“We can trust her,” Arthur said.

“I wish that made it easier to say.”

“I don’t understand,” Gwen said.

Merlin sighed and pulled the hand cloth next to his plate off the table, beginning to run it between restive fingers. Once again, he didn’t know where to start. The turbulence of interacting with magic in Camelot had touched Guinevere’s life multiple times in the worst ways. Rejection from Gwen would wound him profoundly.

“Only a fool would squander the attention of a woman as brave, kind, and lovely as you without reason,” he said at last. “I did not court you because I have kept a dangerous secret all these years. One that would have put your life at risk. One that has restrained me from ever pursuing anyone because I know, always, that those who invite me to their beds may not want me there if they knew.”

“If you mean to speak in riddles, you’re off to a good start,” Gwen said.  
  
Merlin could read concern and confusion in the lines around her eyes and mouth.

“I don’t mean to be—to be inscrutable,” Merlin said. His eyes fell again to his lap. “I’m nervous. You were my friend even before Arthur, and I’m apprehensive of your reaction.”

“Better to peel off the bandage swiftly then?” Gwen suggested.

Arthur pulled his chair closer to Merlin. “Hey,” Arthur said, elbowing him. “At least she doesn’t have the authority to kill you.”

“How reassuring, you clotpole.” Even as Merlin flashed a glance of contrived vexation at Arthur, he felt grateful for the attempt at levity.  
  
Arthur flipped his hand palm up on the table top, inviting Merlin to take it. Merlin accepted the offered comfort, letting Arthur slot their fingers together. “Gwen is wiser than me,” he said. “And much nicer. She will not turn away from you.”

“You can tell me anything, Merlin,” Gwen said, leaning forward earnestly.

Merlin gripped Arthur’s hand tighter, took a fortifying breath, and said, “I have magic.”

She inhaled sharply and raised her fingers unconsciously to her mouth as if she wished she could press the sound back inside. Her hand fell and she said, "Oh, Merlin."

Faster than Merlin could process, Gwen pushed out of her chair, came around the table, and threw her arms around him, unmindful of the dirt beneath her as she knelt to reach him. One of her hands slid up his back and swept into his hair where it stayed, gently cradling his head. 

"How lonely you must have felt all this time," she whispered. 

“But not any longer,” Arthur said. “We will be here for him from now on, won’t we?”  
  
“Of course we will!” Gwen said. Her fingers skimmed through his hair as she moved to clasp the nape of his neck and squeeze a promise of support into his skin.  
  
“You’re taking the news well,” Merlin said.  
  
He found Gwen’s other arm through touch, caught her hand, and urged her back up. She dragged her chair close as Arthur had done and sat down again.  
  
“There were times when I suspected,” she said. “I didn’t let myself dwell on it, but the thought crossed my mind more than once.”

“Do you have any questions?” Merlin asked. “There are things you ought to know, things I should explain.”

“I’ll need some time to think before many come to me,” Gwen said, “but it was you that made the poultice that cured my father during the plague, wasn’t it?”

“It was. I’m sorry you were arrested for it. I wanted so much to do something good with my magic that I didn’t think of the consequences.”

“It came out alright in the end. A couple of nights in the dungeons was well worth the extra time I got to have with him. I can’t thank you enough for that, Merlin,” Gwen said. “But we have time to speak of the details later. You haven’t yet answered our question.”

“If you think you can love a sorcerer, I’m happy to be three.” 

“I can love you,” Gwen said. 

She planted a soft kiss on his cheek, drew back, and gazed at him searchingly. She tilted her head in question and leaned incrementally closer. He answered by meeting her the rest of the way, joining their lips. 

Gwen’s mouth was lush and warm and so much better in reciprocation than the fleeting memory he had of their first kiss. Her acceptance made a flutter of hope rise inside him. He’d felt it more and more frequently since the truth had come to light, drawn out as a moth attracted to torch glow. Now, at last, he let it fly free, and allowed himself to embrace the promise of change.

**\---:|||:---**

Nothing dramatic altered in their daily lives, but the development of their relationship brought little joys to each of them.

Merlin and Gwen traded clandestine flirtations when they encountered one another in the course of their duties. Merlin had dared several times to whisk Guinevere into the shadows of a side passage for stolen kisses. Gwen in turn had patted his arse as she’d come up behind him on three occasions thus far. She’d done the same in the past, but now the playful gesture carried a new, thrilling layer of suggestion.

Arthur’s mood had lifted significantly, but he retained a measure of the thoughtfulness that had seemed to weigh unhappily on him in the last few months. Over the years, he’d lost a great deal of the arrogant veneer he’d used as a shield when Merlin had first met him. Now, Arthur seemed more aware of it than ever before. He withheld petty complaints he might have made only two seasons before, was slower to hand out criticism, and freer with praise.

Between the two of them, professionally and privately, Arthur had made a point to show Merlin a greater level of consideration since they had retaken Camelot from Morgana and Morgause. He'd let Merlin close before, but now he relinquished more of his barriers, letting Merlin see his gentle, sweet side without pretense. This shift in behavior impressed Merlin as much as it pleased him. He had known all this potential lay within Arthur. Watching it bloom and bear fruit before his eyes was rewarding in itself.

Another intimate difference came in the dynamics of their mornings. While there was not always time for Merlin to join Arthur in bed before preparing him for the day, Arthur generally found waking more agreeable now that Merlin greeted him with kisses.

Today had begun on a bright note. Arthur had taken the time to shave after breakfast and left for Knight’s Training in high spirits. The afternoon council session had gone so smoothly that the prince regent had dismissed Merlin early. 

But Arthur had not come back to his chambers afterwards as planned. Eventually, Merlin had decided to backtrack to check on him. Some fifteen minutes had passed already since Merlin had recruited Gwen to his search. They had looked in so many spots that frustration had begun to wane into worry. 

Concern must have shown on their faces because when they met Leon in the hallway, he slowed as he approached them.

“Merlin. Guinevere,” he said in greeting. “Is something amiss?”

“Have you seen the prince?” Merlin asked.

“Yes, he’s up on the battlements,” Leon said. “There’s no trouble, is there?”

“No, nothing like that,” Gwen said. “We were worried when we couldn’t find him.”

“We’ve been at it for half a candlemark,” Merlin said. “He usually goes up there to brood. Council was almost over when he told me to go ahead. What happened?”

“The final item up for discussion was a difficult topic. It likely troubled him,” Leon said.

“What item?” Gwen asked.

“I think that’s news he’d want to share himself.”  
  
“In that case, we should go. Thank you, Leon,” Merlin said.

**\---:|||:---**

They found Arthur in the spot Merlin expected. With only a glance between them to confirm their intentions, he and Gwen took up places flanking him.

"Arthur," Merlin greeted as he nudged Arthur’s shoulder with his own. "Want to tell us what's wrong?"

Arthur sighed but obliged anyway, still looking out over the city. “The council has forwarded a resolution proposing that, if my father is still unfit to rule in a year’s time, I will ascend the throne,” he said. “They motioned for a deciding vote at the next session.”  
  
“Arthur that’s—” Merlin trailed off. _Good news_ , he finished in his head but didn’t say, knowing his honest reaction wasn’t what Arthur needed to hear.

Gwen picked up his failed attempt at comfort more tactfully. “I’m sorry the circumstances are so complicated. It must be difficult,” she said.

“I’ve always known my coronation would be an unhappy affair,” Arthur said. “Gaius tries to be positive, but I know there’s no real chance that he will recover. I can’t decide if it’s better or worse to be facing my kingship without the expected funeral.” 

"That's a hard question for a child to ponder," Merlin said. "His ill health may not grant the same closure on his reign, but the crown is a finality in itself."

“His decline was sudden. It may be that he recovers the same way,” Gwen said.

Arthur shook his head minutely. “Hanging on to such a hope is worse, I think. He is a shadow of himself. I’ve grieved, in a fashion, these last few months as he faded from who he was,” he said. “Now that I know the truth, there’s nothing left to confront, and that’s a loss as well. I won’t have the opportunity to face him, and I won’t know what I would have chosen to do in the moment with his lies bare between us.”

“I’m sorry I took that from you the first time,” Merlin said.  
  
“I’m not. If I’m honest, part of me resents that you did, but I know it would have been a mistake if I had killed him that way.”

"On that, I agree. You will be a great king, and your reign deserves a better dawning than what would have welcomed you under those circumstances."

"If I am great, it will be because I have advisors of quality supporting me," Arthur said.

"Ah, well. A good monarch should recognise his assets."

"I do," Arthur said. "Thank you both."

"Is there anything we can do?" Gwen asked.

"You already are," Arthur said. "I'll be alright. I knew something of the sort was coming, but I didn't expect it to be so soon. The announcement caught me off guard. Perhaps I ought to employ spies among the court to prevent being blindsided like that again."

"We could help with that actually," Gwen said. "Merlin and I are among the highest ranked members of the household staff. A few judicious coins slipped in the right pockets could offer a stream of pertinent information."

"Servants do overhear a great deal," Merlin said.

"That's an interesting thought. We'll discuss it more later. For now, I've tarried here enough. I have reports that need seeing to," Arthur said. "Guinevere, will you be with my father after dinner again?"

"I will."

"Shall we get to it then?" Arthur suggested, pushing himself away from the stonework.

**\---:|||:---**

Merlin, Arthur, and Gwen had descended the battlements together but parted with surreptitious gestures of affection to attend their various duties. 

As with most afternoons, Merlin went to check in with Gaius. He opened the door to find the physician handling a bubbling potion with a long pair of tongs as he measured out portions into glass vials. Merlin waited for him to finish the delicate task before speaking.

“So, it seems council got significantly more interesting after I left.”  
  
“I take it you’ve heard the news,” Gaius said.

“Arthur told us.” At Gaius’s raised eyebrow, he clarified. “Gwen and me.”

“Ah, of course. The three of you have been thicker than thieves lately.”  
  
“Erm, yes,” Merlin said. He moved a stack of books off the bench and sat down. “About that, there are a couple of things I need to tell you.”  
  
“Oh, what’s that?” Gaius asked.

“This is a conversation I think you’ll want to sit down for.”

“You haven’t landed yourselves in trouble, have you?”

“No, nothing like that. Everything’s fine. Great, even. Just, uh, different.”

Gauis sighed, scribbled a brief notation in his journal, and shuffled his notes together before sitting across from Merlin.

“Spit out what you mean before you choke yourself, Merlin,” he said.

Merlin picked at the wood by his thigh as he started to speak. “First off, I want to remind you that things are good and you shouldn’t be alarmed. I’ve been meaning to tell you since it happened, but I wasn’t sure how.”

“To tell me what?” Gaius prompted.

Merlin knew the direct approach would serve him best with Gaius, so he braced himself, straightened his posture, looked his mentor in the eyes, and took the plunge. “I told Arthur. About my magic, about everything. I told Gwen too.”

Nothing changed in Gaius’s face for a moment, not even a twitch of the eyebrows. Then a clear expression of realisation set in. “That explains a few things I’d wondered about recently.”

“Like what?”

“Your chipper mood for one,” Gaius said. “The cares of your destiny have weighed heavily on you, and I saw more and more of the boisterous young man I knew wear away without knowing how to help it. It’s been good to see you smile so much these last weeks, my boy.” He planted his elbows on the table before continuing. “You’ve started humming again too. Much as I’ve ribbed you about it, it’s been a welcome sound after months of silence.”

Merlin ducked his head and covered his smile with a palm. Knowing that Gaius had marked his moods warmed him. “I suppose, after Morgana, I had started to lose hope that things would ever change, but I was wrong,” he said. “Arthur’s been wonderful. He can’t change such a monumental law while he’s only regent, but he promised to lift the ban when he’s king. And with the announcement today, that’s a reality with a deadline. The Golden Age is more than a distant dream now.”  
  
“I’ve contemplated encouraging you to tell him the truth in recent days,” Gaius said. “He called me for a private audience to ask questions about magic and the history of its use in Camelot. And a few days ago, Geoffrey asked me over to discuss which books and documents would be best to reference for a full understanding of magic. Then he asked something I truly didn’t expect.”

“What?”

“He mentioned that he trusts my discernment and discretion and asked if I knew anyone who would still be willing to speak on behalf of magic as such testimony would be of interest to our future king.”

“So, that’s what all his secret meetings have been about. I wonder if he’ll tell me what he’s planning now that you’ve ruined his surprise.”

“I have a guess, but I’ll let him tell you. I’m sure you’ll coax it out of him eventually.”

Merlin fought to hide a smirk at thoughts of his new array of persuasive methods. “I’m sure I will. There’s something else you should know,” he said but didn’t continue.

Merlin had had little opportunity to speak of romantic dalliances with his father figure, so he couldn’t predict how Gaius might react to his next piece of news. Announcing the entanglement of his current situation was a bit different than bringing home a nice young villager from the next town. While Gaius’s approval wouldn’t change his feelings, he still hoped to have it.

“Don’t keep me in suspense,” Gaius said.

“I told Arthur and Gwen because they asked me to be with them. As in the three of us together as a couple. Well, not a couple but—”

“In a relationship?”  
  
“Yes,” Merlin said. “I know we’ll face unique difficulties and it’s not exactly traditional, but I hoped you might support us anyway.”

“My boy, I will love you regardless. If the three of you are content, I’m happy for you. While a marriage of three might not be a common practice among the current nobility, it’s not unheard of, and the Old Religion reveres triads. The Druids in particular celebrate such unions as sacred.”

“Really?”

“Indeed,” Gaius said. “In truth, I’m relieved to hear you’ve forged this bond. I worried I would watch you pine for Arthur endlessly through their marriage. You deserve more than that, and I’m pleased you will have it.”

“Thanks, Gaius.”

“Now then, if we’re finished with the big revelations, this potion should be cool enough to deliver to Sir Ector.”

**\---:|||:---**

Despite the difficulty in arranging private rendezvous between three people, they had managed to meet at least once a week so far. The first time they had ridden together beyond the city walls, Gwen had dared to ask Merlin to show them some magic. Arthur’s interest and Gwen’s plainly delighted wonder had filled something in him that Merlin had not even known was missing. Being so open, so free, had flooded him with a lightness he hadn't experienced since childhood. Getting to share the experience with people he cherished so dearly led Merlin to count that day as one of the best of his life.

Today, they had ventured out on a picnic. Gwen regaled them with the latest gossip as they set out supplies. Apparently, Hallie overheard Lady Willa telling Lady Linley that Lord Egbert bites viciously and has an alarming obsession with feet.

"Lucky we don't have to worry in that regard with Arthur, though I suppose you know that," Merlin said.

"Actually, I don't," Gwen said.

"What?”

"We've never—We've only ever kissed."

"Really? You've been courting for ages,” Merlin said. “You’ve truly never had a spontaneous tryst in a storage cupboard or anything?”

“That wouldn’t be seemly,” Arthur said.

“You’re too concerned with propriety.”

“Rightly so,” Arthur protested. “The council and nobility disapprove of my decision to officially court Guinevere. They would seise any chance to impunge her reputation. Should she get with child out of wedlock, it would be disastrous.”  
  
“There are ways to pleasure a woman without risking pregnancy, you know,” Merlin said.

“I’ve heard the men sing about such things in their cups, but I—I’ve never been with a woman properly,” Arthur said. He managed to keep a neutral tone but a hint of pink tinged his cheeks.

“There’s no shame in being inexperienced,” Gwen said, looking at Arthur with her nose scrunched. She seemed torn between offering commiseration or reproach for his embarrassment.

“No, of course not,” Arthur said. “And I don’t lack experience with men. It’s just—well, there were a few women when I was old enough to understand I wanted another’s touch but young enough not to realise people might seek to satisfy my needs not because they wanted to but to get close to the crown. I was mortified when it dawned on me that they demurred from reciprocation because they only wished to curry my favor.”  
  
“The steward discourages such behavior,” Gwen said. “They should have known better.” 

“Holden does, yes, but he wasn’t steward yet then,” Arthur said. “I stuck to bedding knights after that until I became responsible for their training. It’s exhausting enough playing the game for the courtiers. It isn’t worth bothering with for personal entanglements when I can take care of it myself.” 

“If we are exchanging personal histories, I’ve only a few kisses on my account,” Gwen said. “You know about Merlin and Lancelot. There was also Leon’s brother, Lucan, and Morgana, once, on a dare.”  
  
“So which of the Pendragon siblings is better then?” Merlin asked.

In response, he received his name spoken in a duet of admonishment as well a light swat on the arm from Gwen and a less gentle smack to the back of his head from Arthur.  
  
“A lady does not kiss and tell,” Gwen replied with affected imperiousness. “What about you?”  
  
“Comparatively, I’m a right slag,” Merlin said. “Ealdor may be a small village, but being a border town, we get a fair deal of travelers and seasonal workers. Enough to keep things interesting. I didn’t often say no to a tumble with men or women. In Camelot, I’ve only ventured to go to bed with a few people visiting the citadel.”  
  
“Like who?” Arthur asked.

“Servants from noble retinues mostly, stablehands here and there, and once, well, that one might irk you to hear.”

“Come now, Merlin, fess up,” Gwen said.  
  
“The Prince of Lothian,” he confessed, glancing at Arthur for his reaction.

To Merlin’s surprise, an amused smile had spread across Arthur’s face.  
  
“When was this?” Arthur asked.  
  
“During the last delegation.”  
  
“Yeah? Me too.”

"Well, well, that’s interesting,” Merlin said, biting his lip against his own grin. He and Arthur shared a look that communicated they’d be discussing those intimate encounters in more detail later. “Anyway, I brought it up because it doesn’t seem fair to me that we share physical intimacy while Gwen is excluded from it entirely.”

“Are you saying we shouldn’t have sex?”

“I’m saying, we should have sex with Gwen, if she wants. It should be her decision in any case."

"I am curious,” Gwen said. “If we can be together without worrying about there being a baby, I’d like to try that. You said you know how?"

“Yes. This may be too bold a question,” Merlin said, “but do you ever ‘take care of it yourself,’ as Arthur put it?”

“ _Mer_ lin, you can’t ask a lady that!” Arthur punctuated his indignation by rolling atop Merlin and instigating a playful tussle.

“We are to be her lovers!” Merlin retorted. He made only a token effort to free himself from Arthur’s hold. “And besides, women are not mysterious creatures without needs. You touch yourself. I touch myself. Is it so unbelievable that—”

Gwen interceded by cuffing them both with a cushion. “I do,” she said.

Two words may never have arrested so much attention as quickly in the annals of language. 

“Mmm, yeah?” Merlin prompted.  
  
“Yeah,” Gwen said, averting her eyes under their scrutiny.  
  
“How do you do it?” Merlin asked.

Gwen bit her lip and looked up at them shyly. “Perhaps it would be easier to show you?”  
  
“ _Gods_ ,” Arthur said, the final letter devolving into a desperate hiss.

“Yes, gods yes,” Merlin said. He darted forward to plant a soft kiss on Gwen’s lips. “If you’re sure.”

Gwen began gathering up her skirts.

Merlin scrambled up, tugging at Arthur’s wrist to urge him closer and resettled on Gwen’s other side. He helped her ruck all her layers up to her waist, leaving her lower half bare before them.

Gwen didn’t pause long before parting her legs and dropping her hand between them, perhaps resolving herself to action before losing her courage. She sighed as she made the first caresses at the crown of her entrance.

Both her companions watched her, enraptured, for several minutes.

Breathlessly, Arthur asked, “Can I?”

“Yes,” Gwen said, and Arthur reached toward her with a trembling hand. The drag of his fingers pulled a moan from her.

Merlin caught the end of the bow at the top of Guinevere’s bust. Rolling the string between thumb and forefinger, he tilted his head in wordless question. Gwen nodded. He unlaced the ties of her dress and the chemise beneath, which didn’t free her breasts entirely but exposed a tremendous view of her cleavage. Merlin slid his hand under the loose fabric to squeeze her and flick each of her nipples to hardness. He pressed kisses to the slope of her bosom before trailing his lips up her neck, careful not to leave any telling marks.

As Gwen’s breaths turned rough from Arthur’s ministrations below, Merlin drew away for a moment to relish the image.

“May I use my mouth on you?” Merlin asked.

Gwen blinked at him a few times, a bit stunned with pleasure. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, please.”

Arthur shifted to make room for him between her thighs. Up close, the folds concealing Gwen’s opening glistened wetly.

Merlin kissed the skin beneath her belly button before lowering his face to put his tongue to work. He couldn’t help but groan at the taste of her.

Gwen had one hand resting on Arthur’s shoulder, and she balled part of his tunic into her fist as she clutched at Merlin’s hair with the other.

“Oh, Merlin,” Gwen gasped. A fine quiver had begun in her legs. “That’s good. That feels so good.”

He pulled back, shooting her a pleased smirk, and nudged Arthur with his arm. “Come here,” Merlin said. “You try.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Arthur said.

“Lick her. Here, look,” Merlin said. He circled a fingertip over Gwen’s clitoris. “This place where you had your fingers, I’ve read it called the nymph. Dip your tongue inside her here and suck. Experiment. Pay attention to what she likes. It’s not so different from how you’d treat a cock, and I know you know how to do that.”

Arthur spared him a dubious glance but moved to follow his instructions. Merlin skimmed teasing doodles along Gwen’s legs and sides as he watched.

“The poets may write of flowers as metaphor, but she’s not any more delicate than we are. Don’t be nervous,” Merlin encouraged when Arthur’s exploration remained tentative.

Soon enough, Arthur’s firmer application of pressure was rewarded with sweet, appreciative sounds. Gwen had slumped from her sitting position until she rested against half of Merlin’s chest.

“I think,” Gwen murmured, “I think I’m going to—oh.”

“Yes, good,” Merlin said. He kissed the sweep of her shoulder and then her neck. He could feel her pulse racing beneath his mouth. “Let go.”

Gwen reflexively pushed Arthur’s face closer as her back arched and she let out a noise between a moan and a whine.

With his widened eyes and slack jaw, Arthur looked wholly dazed as orgasm rocked through her.

“I guess that was alright?” Arthur murmured when she had stilled.

Gwen dragged her fingers through the longest strands of his hair affectionately. “You were wonderful, Arthur dear,” she said. “You were both lovely.”

“Excellent job for a beginner,” Merlin said.

Arthur huffed. “Shut up, Merlin.” 

Gwen shifted off of Merlin to lay down fully. Arthur scooted into the scant space between them, wiggling until they made room for him, and flopped onto his back with a groan, revealing a dramatic tent in his breeches.

Merlin was in a similar state and hummed in sympathy. “But you like my mouth,” he said. He cupped Arthur’s cock through the fabric. Arthur bucked into the touch.

“I do,” Arthur agreed. “Come here.” He gave no further warning before he pulled Merlin on top of him and ground their hips together.

Merlin went without protest. He kissed Arthur as they rutted, exchanging the taste of Guinevere’s slick between their lips.

“This would be better with less clothing,” Merlin said.

“Good idea.”

Merlin pushed himself up to his knees, straddling Arthur, and with fleet fingers untied his breeches. Arthur shoved his own breeches and braies down, jostling Merlin as he moved to his own laces. As soon as they were untangled, Arthur took care of Merlin’s clothing as well, tugging the lot to his thighs.

Merlin aligned their cocks as he stretched out over Arthur again. When they had found their rhythm once more, Merlin felt Gwen trace the planes of his shoulder blades and the line of his spine. She let her hands wander down to his bum where the curious brush of her fingers morphed into a confidant massage.  
  
He meant to tell her that he enjoyed it, but the thought jarred right out of his head as Gwen slapped his arse. The shock of it tore a gasp from his throat.

“Do that again,” Arthur said.

Gwen obliged, spanking Merlin several more times, soothing his skin with her palm before each blow. He took a sharp breath with every one, and his hips jolted out of sync with Arthur’s thrusts until he couldn’t focus on moving at all.

Merlin stifled a moan against Arthur’s neck. “Fuck, why is that good?” he asked.

“It only matters that you like it,” Arthur said. His eyes gleamed to match his mischievous smile. 

Merlin knew this discovery delighted Arthur who was surely already planning on abusing the knowledge. Before he could remark on it, Arthur slipped a hand between them, grasping their cocks together.

Moments later, Guinevere edged her hand in to join him. Arthur ceded his hold so he could encircle her fingers around them both, guiding her to grip tighter as they started to stroke in tandem.

Arthur raised his other hand to cradle Gwen’s neck, urging her down so each of them could kiss in turn.

“I’m close,” Merlin warned.

“Want to make him lose it?” Arthur asked, gazing at Guinevere. Silent communication passed between them over Merlin’s head. She leaned down so he could whisper in her ear.

Gwen passed her hand over Merlin’s bottom again. Then the ghost of a touch grazed over the part of his arse cheeks, a maddening taunt that had him clenching in anticipation. Suddenly, her fingers plunged inward, catching on the ring of muscle hidden there and rubbing. She kneaded his rim in tight loops, never using enough pressure to breach him.

Merlin wanted Guinevere's fingers inside, but somehow the denial of what he desired added to the pleasure, ratcheting up the tension through his entire body.

The desperate encouraging noises coming out of his own mouth might have proven embarrassing had he had any attention left to spare from chasing euphoria.

"Do you like that?" Gwen asked, her voice sounding utterly wrecked. "You're so pretty, Merlin. Do you know that? So lovely like this, trembling for me."

Merlin didn't know for sure which point of stimulation sent him careening into orgasm, but it washed over him powerfully. Below him, Arthur’s pace picked up, his thrusts gliding easily in the slick of Merlin’s come. It didn’t take long for Arthur’s spend to join the wetness between them. Then the two of them collapsed into an inelegant heap, breathing heavily. 

Guinevere, slightly more composed, reclined next to them and took turns raking soothing paths through their hair as they recovered.

“Do we have a cloth?” Arthur asked several minutes later.

“Better than,” Merlin said, wiggling his fingers in clarification even as he willed the mess away with magic.

“And when did you learn that trick?” Arthur asked.

“For that particular use? Around age twelve.” 

Arthur laughed. “Handy that.”

“Mmm, especially in a room with no doors,” Merlin agreed. 

“You’re not falling asleep are you?” Arthur asked while poking at Merlin. “We’ve got to get dressed.”

Arthur stood and offered a hand to Guinevere. Merlin grumbled but soon dragged himself up to follow suit. Once everyone had adjusted their attire so as not to look as if they’d just tumbled in the woods, Arthur resettled in his previous spot on the blanket.

“Merlin likes to cuddle after,” Arthur said, sending Gwen a smug smirk even as he held his arms open in welcome.

“Don’t pretend you don’t, you prat,” Merlin said. He laid next to Arthur, resting his head on Arthur’s chest. Gwen mirrored the position on his other side. “You’re not fooling either of us.”

“I know,” Arthur said. He settled his hands on his companions’ respective waists. “You see right through me, my darlings.”

Merlin glanced over at Gwen to see a fond grin curling her lips, which he imagined matched the one on his own face. “You alright?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m fine. More than fine. That was—” she began but faltered to find the right word.

“Not proper?” Merlin supplied.

“Nice,” Arthur offered instead.

“Only nice?” Merlin asked.

“Something we should do again,” Gwen said. To that, she received no argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is always welcome. If you'd like any additional tags included or spot any errors, please let me know, and I'll update asap.
> 
> If you happened not to notice the new series link, there is now a short prequel to this fic from Arthur's POV. I hope you enjoy that as well as this chapter, and I'll be pleased if you stick around to see what's next.
> 
> If you'd like to find me on tumblr, unmarkedinlife is my Merlin blog where you'll find this [attention-grabber graphic](https://unmarkedinlife.tumblr.com/post/626006431049646080/secret-of-change-pairing-merlinarthurgwen) that you could reblog, if you were so inclined. I follow from balaszafiros.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited and brit-picked by both silvermyfanwy and Lawless_bard who are wonderful people and skillful betas. Any mistakes left are my own.
> 
> There's an explicit Merlin/Arthur scene. If anyone needs spoilers for the sexual content included, here's what's in store: fingering, anal sex (Arthur tops this time), and comeplay.

Twice a year, Holden directed the household staff to inventory the castle stores, checking for items that needed repairs or replacement. Guinevere had diligently overseen the process all week, and the work was finally winding down. Rather than attending Arthur at the council session after lunch, Merlin had begun helping Gwen sort through the notes made during the counting, condensing and organising the information Holden would need to place the appropriate orders.

“You’ve been awfully pensive this afternoon,” Gwen said as she set aside her quill and opened up the desk drawer. “What’s wrong?”

“Have you told Elyan about us?” Merlin asked.

“I had to. I can’t imagine what theories he might have cooked up to explain the frequency of your visits if I hadn’t been forthright.”

The thought drew a wry smile from Merlin. “Probably better not to try to guess at that,” he said. “I’ve told Gaius, of course, but what about the rest of our friends?”

Gwen slit the parchment and wax seal around a new bottle of ink and unstoppered it. “Arthur’s footing with the council and nobility is improving, but for now it’s for the best that we not confirm it to anyone who doesn’t absolutely need to know. You know that, so what makes you ask anyway?”

“Lancelot.”

“Oh,” Gwen said.

“He still has feelings for you,” Merlin said even though her scrunched nose told him Gwen already understood.

“I know.”

“I want to talk to him about it before it becomes public knowledge.”

“I see,” Gwen said. Her shoulders stiffened. 

Gwen had instigated a conversation of her own with Lancelot following Morgana’s defeat. She and Lancelot had both confided in him in the aftermath, so he had heard enough of the details to know the discussion had strayed from amicable. 

“But I won’t if it makes you uncomfortable,” Merlin added.

“He’s your friend. You want to break the news to him kindly, I understand that,” Gwen said. Her grip on her quill tightened. “He has no claim over me and never did. If he has a problem with what you are to me, I will be cross.”

Merlin laid his hand over hers, saving the quill.

“I don’t think that will be an issue,” he said. “He won’t want to stand in the way of our happiness, but that doesn’t mean it won’t hurt him.”

Gwen pursed her lips but nodded. “Do you want my permission?”

“I’d like it, if you would grant it.”

“Then you have it.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Merlin said. He lifted Gwen’s hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

Gwen shot him an exasperated look at the title but pecked his cheek fondly all the same. The next moment, she poked him with the tip of her quill. “Do you think you can concentrate now?” she asked.

“We’ll see.”

**\---:|||:---**

Focusing became a pointless endeavour when Arthur joined them an hour later. If the casual way he'd draped himself over the back of the chair he was straddling as he watched them work wasn't distracting enough, his bursts of ebullient whistling surely did the trick.

"Out with it," Merlin said as he straightened the stack of papers he’d looked over and set them aside. "Council is rarely so energising, so what happened?"

Arthur drummed a rapid beat on the back of the chair and launched into his explanation with an enthusiasm that indicated he’d been waiting on an invitation to speak.

"Gwen's suggestion of entrusting the Nemeton estate to Lady Marlaine has already proven rewarding. She is fearsome, and you should have heard the argument she had with Lord Barrow over raising taxes,” he said. “Judicious application of mathematics has never been so rousing. It didn't even take a candlemark to pass the concessions I was hoping for."

"You're practically bouncing over tax code?" Gwen remarked sceptically.

“I don’t buy it either,” Merlin said. “Unless you’ve taken a dose of body swapping potion and it’s actually Leon in there.”

Their disbelief made Arthur smirk.

"Ah, well, Geoffrey also delivered some information I'd asked him to look into," Arthur said. "You see, I'd been thinking about what Merlin told us the other day about triads being sacred to the Druids and all, so I had him check into the recorded royal marriages."

"And what did he find?" Gwen asked.

"Four kings have been recorded to have had ceremonies for a marriage of three, so there is plenty of precedent," Arthur said. "We'll make an honest man of Merlin yet."

The three of them had talked about the specifics of how they might officially navigate their relationship once Arthur took the throne before, so the implication of marriage wasn’t a surprise. But it still made warm contentment suffuse Merlin from head to toe. He felt too pleased in the moment to even offer a rejoinder to Arthur’s quip.

**\---:|||:---**

At training the next day, Arthur had the knights pair off to spar, concentrating on endurance.  
  
“If you finish your match before Leon and Lancelot, start again,” Arthur instructed. “Gwaine, you’re with me.”

Merlin shifted on the bench to lean back against the weapons table, settling in for the bout. He enjoyed watching Arthur and Gwaine face off during drills just as the men did. No one else rivaled Arthur as well as Gwaine when it came to mastery with a blade, and their contests often looked more akin to dancing than fighting.

When Lancelot finally yielded to Leon, he and the rest of the knights broke away for a drink. Many of them jogged to the edge of the field as eager to witness the conclusion of Arthur and Gwaine’s match as to reach their waterskins.

“Elyan’s wagering five silver on Gwaine’s victory, if you care to get in on that,” Lancelot said as he took a seat next to Merlin

Merlin chuckled as he peered at the huddle of knights at the other end of the field. “Looks like he has enough takers to wipe out half a month’s salary as it is. I’ll show mercy this once.”

Most of the time, they spared their friends, but the two of them had, on occasion, taken advantage of fools who underestimated Arthur’s skills, reaping tidy profits from such bets.

“They’re getting tired,” Lancelot observed.

Sure enough, Arthur slashed away a sloppy jab from Gwaine and stepped out of range. Neither of them closed again, trying to catch their breath.

Gwaine wiped sweat from his forehead and straightened up. “You know, Arthur,” he began in a teasing lilt designed for provocation, “those who don’t know better might think you’ve grown out your hair to imitate me in a fit of jealousy.”

Arthur scoffed as Gwaine engaged him again. “Me, jealous of you? That’ll be the day I eat my sword,” he replied, unruffled.

The scratch and clatter of their steel rang above the murmur of the knights for another handful of minutes.

“Maybe it’s to give your intended something to hang onto, if you know what I mean?” Gwaine asked, changing tack.

“Surely you're not implying anything untoward, are you, Sir Gwaine?” Arthur’s voice had dropped low, turning menacing, as he attacked with renewed vigour.

After a few more blows, Arthur finally managed to disarm Gwaine in a maneuver that brought them into close quarters. The edge of his blade hovered by Gwaine’s throat. He raised one leather clad hand and snatched a fistful of Gwaine’s hair before lowering his sword deliberately. Using his grip in Gwaine’s locks, Arthur pulled Gwaine's head back and leaned over him the way a knight might kiss a maiden in the storybooks.

Gwaine’s eyes widened in alarm.

Arthur let the awkward intimacy stretch a moment more before dropping the facade. “It is good for that, isn’t it?” he remarked and let Gwaine go.

Unbalanced, Gwaine stumbled and fell on his arse. The confused expression fell from his face as he laughed. Arthur, Merlin, Lancelot, and the other knights near enough to hear the exchange joined him. 

Arthur helped Gwaine to his feet, and Gwaine melodramatically brushed himself off. As they started toward the bench, Merlin glanced at Lancelot and decided he might as well not dally.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about. Privately,” Merlin said. “Do you mind if I drop by later?”

“Of course not,” Lancelot said. “You’re always welcome.”

Merlin hoped that unconditionally warm reception would survive the conversation to come.

**\---:|||:---**

Though less familiar with the West Wing of the castle, which housed the highest-ranked of the knights, Merlin could navigate the way to Lancelot’s and Gwaine’s rooms without fail. He went the long way to avoid the common room, not wishing to be waylaid.

Merlin knocked.   
  
“Come in,” Lancelot called. 

He must have just finished polishing his sword and armour for the room smelled faintly of oil, and he was bustling around, putting supplies away.  
  
Merlin slipped into his usual chair to wait for him.   
  
“Want something to drink?” Lancelot asked, finally looking over his shoulder. He noted the seriousness of Merlin’s demeanour immediately and sat down. “What is it?”

Merlin had mentally rehearsed his words during the walk from Arthur’s chambers, and he forced himself not to hesitate.  
  
“We spoke after I told Arthur about my magic, but I didn’t explain why I confessed,” Merlin said. “I told Gwen, too, for the same reason. I wanted you to hear it from me.”   
  
“Alright then. Let’s have it.”

“I told them because they asked me to be their lover with the three of us in a triad.”  
  
“Oh,” Lancelot said. His expression betrayed a twinge of misery, quickly masked, but no surprise. “That, um—that makes sense, doesn’t it? You’ve all been so close of late, and Arthur’s never exactly been subtle about his feelings for you, but in the last month or so, well, let’s just say that Gwaine’s raked in coin from long-standing bets with people foolish enough not to see your banter is flirting.”

“Has it been so obvious?”

“To those that know you, yes.”  
  
“Then gossip will soon follow.” Merlin sighed. “I’m sorry.”   
  
“For what?”   
  
“You’re my friend, and I’m involved with the woman dear to your heart.”   
  
“I have no claim over Guinevere.”   
  
“I know, and that’s exactly what she said. But it’s important to me to acknowledge that this might be hard for you too.”   
  
“Gwen is right to be upset with me. I thought removing myself from the situation was the noble course of action, but I was mistaken. Denying her the opportunity to decide for herself was unworthy. Who she chooses to make her life with is not my business.”   
  
“Those things may be true, but your feelings are real as well.”

“There is no one to blame for my pain but me. Begrudging your happiness will not mend my heart.”

“If there’s anything I can do that will keep you from being hurt, please tell me.”

Lancelot nodded.

“It will take time for me to be able to speak of her casually, to talk with you or Arthur about this as friends do.”  
  
“Of course,” Merlin agreed. He glanced out the window above Lancelot’s bed. The last light of sunset had fled the sky. “I should go. Arthur will be ready to turn in.”

As he made to leave, Lancelot stood as well and followed him to the door. Before Merlin stepped outside, Lancelot clapped a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“I wish you well, Merlin,” he said. “This doesn’t change that.”   
  
“Thank you, my friend.”

**\---:|||:---**

In the time since their triad had formed, Wednesdays had proven the best evenings for Merlin and Gwen to spend time alone. Merlin was flipping idly through the pages of a text on potion-making when a familiar, distinct knock came at the door. Merlin grinned as he set aside his book to let Gwen inside.

“Hey,” he greeted.

“Hey,” Gwen said. She kissed him warmly. “I hope your day was less dull than mine. Mercifully, the inventory is officially complete and things can go back to normal again.”

Merlin grabbed the bottle of wine he'd borrowed from Arthur’s stores and gathered a pair of mismatched cups before gesturing for Gwen to proceed him upstairs. “Training was lively. Arthur and Gwaine sparred, which your brother wagered poorly on,” he said as they climbed. “And I talked to Lancelot.”

Since Gwen’s visits had increased in regularity, Merlin’s room stayed cleaner than it had in all his time in Camelot. The table bore no clutter. A small vase of wildflowers and two candles graced it now along with the collection of board games, on loan from Gaius, that they’d taken to playing.

“Should I ask how it went?” Gwen asked.   
  
She took her customary seat and looked up at Merlin sceptically. 

“Ah, better than I expected,” Merlin said. He peeked in the basket Gwen had set on the table to find pastries clearly coaxed from Audrey, a skill Merlin, who feared the retribution of her ladle, envied greatly. He set down the cups and poured them both a measure of wine before sitting across from Gwen. “But it seems we’ve not been as cautious as we thought. Lancelot tells me Gwaine is cashing in on his old betting pools about Arthur and me. Though he did say it’s because they know us, we should still prepare for gossip.” 

“It’s no more than we expected,” Gwen said. “We’ve weathered worse before.” 

“That doesn’t make it less tedious.”

Gwen laughed. “I suppose not, but it’s the price we pay being involved with the future king.”

Merlin wrinkled his nose dramatically. “You really think he’s worth it?”

Gwen took Merlin’s hand. “You both are,” she said, answering his humour with sincerity. 

“And so are you,” Merlin replied. He threaded their fingers together and pressed his appreciation into her palm. “What entertainment will it be for my lady this evening?”  
  
Gwen leaned back in her chair and mulled the options over. “Fox and Geese,” she said. “I call fox.”   
  
“Of course you do, you vixen.”

Gwen, it turned out, had a keen competitive streak and a head for strategy. Their casual game stretched well past the time it took them to enjoy their fruit tarts as Gwen deftly spirited her fox token out from Merlin’s traps. Soon enough he no longer had a sufficient number of geese tokens to surround her, securing her victory.

“You were going easy on me!” Gwen accused.

“I confess, I may not have been entirely focused,” Merlin said. “I am a bit tipsy and distracted.”  
  
“By what?”   
  
“How happy I am. I never imagined I would get to have this. There was a girl once. I thought I loved her,” Merlin said. His mouth quirked in a twitch too small to count as a smile. Though the thought put a melancholy ache in his heart, he knew that the desperate, hopeless yearning he'd felt for Freya had not been true love. “She was sweet, but I think I loved the idea that someone could understand me, all of me. It wasn’t Freya I wanted that with though.”

“It was Arthur.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it always has been,” Merlin said. “If someone had told me a year ago that you and Arthur both accepted me, loved me even, after learning about my magic, I wouldn’t have believed it. So, having that means the world to me. You mean the world to me.” 

Gwen stood and walked around the table to him. She leaned into his side and raked her fingers through his hair before kissing his forehead. “Come lie down with me, darling,” she said.

Tidiness wasn’t the only welcome change Merlin had made to his room. Spending nights cosied up with Gwen had finally given him the motivation to invest in a larger frame for the bed. He’d bargained with the sawyer for scrap wood and recruited Percival to help him extend the cot. Now, the space remained snug for two people but not to the point of discomfort.

Merlin let Gwen tug him along to her satisfaction until they lay curled close on their sides with their legs tangled together and their faces scant inches apart.

“What’s your favourite spell?” Gwen asked.

“I’ve never really thought about it,” Merlin admitted. “But I’ve always worked well with fire. I like to make shapes with the embers and smoke. I used to spin stories for myself on the hearth at home and illustrate them with little fire people, dashing sorcerers and daring ladies and mythical creatures.”  
  
“Show me?” Gwen requested.

Merlin waved his hand in a beckoning motion, and the flames from all the candles in the room floated off their wicks toward them. They spiraled in the air for a moment before coalescing into the shape of a dragon in flight.

“I always did like dragons,” Merlin said. “Made sense when I found out about my father. I think my magic remembered parts of him before I ever knew him.”  
  
“Beautiful,” Gwen said. “I know you had little time with him, but what was he like?” 

Merlin sent the flames back to the candles and sighed as he thought, recalling his brief and distant memories. “Stubborn, bitter, sad, but also self-assured,” he said. “He seemed a gifted healer. He wasn’t going to help us at first, but he changed his mind. We had just one afternoon to talk as father and son before he died defending me.”  
  
Merlin looked over his shoulder toward the small shelf hanging above the crate he used for a side table. He wordlessly willed one of the drawers open, retrieving the carving Balinor had gifted him without rising. 

“He made this for me that evening,” Merlin said. He held the wooden dragon out for Gwen to see. She took it and ran reverential fingers over the bumps in the whittling as she examined the figurine.  
  
“It’s good you have a piece of him to cherish,” she said. Gwen handed the dragon back to Merlin, and he set it on the crate behind him. “I have a few things left of my mother. All my embroidery supplies were hers. Elyan’s told me what he remembers of her but that’s little enough. He was so young when she passed.”

“We’re right maudlin this evening, aren’t we?”

Gwen huffed in amused agreement. “Would you show me something else?” she asked. “Something cheerful.”

Merlin hummed thoughtfully and summoned the candlelight once more. “I’ll tell you my favourite story from when I was a boy,” he said and began the tale with silhouettes of fire following his words. “Once, long ago, in a village a bit like Ealdor, an orphan boy fell into a trap set to catch a thief harrying the townspeople. The trap was no ordinary snare. It was a thing of magic, triggered when the boy stepped across an invisible boundary.”

The room dimmed around them as Merlin spoke. The contrast between the dark and the shifting figures lent sharper lines to the shapes of an owl and a child. 

When he finished his retelling, he let the flames extinguish entirely and conjured tiny orbs of light to float above them instead. A replica of the night sky shifted across the ceiling as they fell asleep.

**\---:|||:---**

With sunrise came a domestic rush. Merlin and Gwen shared space at his washbasin before pulling on fresh clothes. The intimacy of tending to their personal preparations together sent his heart in funny swoops within his chest, but neither of them had time to dawdle as the castle stirred for the day. 

“Remember, if someone asks—” Merlin began.

Gwen silenced him with a kiss.  
  
“Don’t fret,” Gwen said. “I know what to say.”   
  
“I love you,” Merlin said.

“I love you, too,” Gwen said. She gave him several deliberate kisses before pulling back. “Give a couple of those to Arthur for me.”

“Of course,” Merlin said. He caught her lips one last time before letting her go.

**\---:|||:---**

On Thursday mornings, George prepared Arthur for the coming audiences and attended him in the throne room while Merlin assisted Gaius with delivering weekly remedy orders. 

Gaius was still chatting with the baker’s wife when urgent whispers started all around. The hubbub distracted Merlin from perusing the sweetmeats on display in front of the shop, and he caught the tail of a hurried conversation between two other customers who had stepped under the bakery’s awning.

“Have you heard? The prince refused to hear a claim against a sorcerer!”  
  
“What?” Felice, the baker’s wife, asked. She and Gaius were both looking at the newcomers with interest.   
  
“It’s true,” the other customer piped up. “He said he weren’t going to condemn citizens who ain’t done no harm.”

“If you’re going to tell it, you might as well give the full story,” the first man admonished before launching into a detailed account of what they’d witnessed.

_The regent’s secondary servant crossed off the name of the previous supplicant and informed the prince about the next arrival._

_“What business have you, Timothy?” Prince Arthur asked._ _  
_ _  
_ _The cobbler wrung his hands, nervous at the direct address. “I’m afraid I have grave news, sire,” Timothy said. “The cordwainer is a sorcerer.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“On what grounds do you make such an accusation?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“I saw him, my lord,” Timothy said. “He floated his hammer to him from across the room, and as he was molding a shoe, a cloth with tallow started working itself into a pair of boots all by itself.”_

_“The cordwainer moved a hammer and spread tallow with magic?” Prince Arthur repeated. “Did you see him do anything beyond aiding his work?”_

_“No, my lord.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _The prince didn’t bother to conceal the flabbergasted disbelief that flashed across his face._

 _“Did you see him injure someone or perform any working of ill intent?” Prince Arthur asked._ _  
_ _  
_ _“No, sire,” Timothy said. “But it was sorcery and no mistake.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Be that as it may,” Prince Arthur said, “I will not condemn a man for using his natural gifts to ply his trade nor arrest any citizen who has done no harm. Send in the next petitioner.”_

Gaius and Merlin shared a look as the man ended his recollection, and they both moved back toward the road.  
  
“Take these to Lady Parnell and Sir Harold,” Gaius said, handing him two vials. “I’ll handle the rest.”

Merlin nodded and took off at a jog, eager to head back to the castle.

**\---:|||:---**

Arthur sat behind his desk, slumped over a stack of parchment as Merlin let himself into the room. At the sound of the door, Arthur stood and stretched while Merlin made his way over to him.

“You’re back early,” Arthur said with a pleased smile.

“Mhmmm,” Merlin agreed. 

He reached up as if to straighten Arthur’s collar and pulled him into a series of kisses. He broke away to murmur, “Those are from Gwen.” He didn’t let Arthur respond before kissing him again, licking into his mouth fervently. “And those are from me.”

“What did I do to deserve all that?”

“I heard something interesting in the market just now.”  
  
“Word traveled that fast?”

“The regent of Camelot offering leniency to a sorcerer is burning news.” Merlin realised his poor word choice too late. "Or rather not,” he added ruefully.

“I only hope no serious accusations crop up to force my hand. Taking a claim to trial would press the issue of lifting the ban. I’ve made good headway with the council, but it would still be better to approach that legislation with the full authority of kingship,” Arthur said. He scrawled his signature at the bottom of the parchment he’d been perusing and set his quill in its holder before gesturing for the two of them to move from behind the desk. “Here, let’s sit down. I asked George to bring up lunch. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the council among other things.” 

Only a moment later, a knock came at the door. Merlin went to let George inside, and he bustled in with a typically overfilled tray.

“I’ve got it from here. Thank you, George,” Merlin said once the food was set on the table.

“Thank you, George,” Arthur echoed, knowing George would only respond to an official dismissal.

George bowed and removed himself with respect and finesse that went unnoticed as Arthur and Merlin seated themselves.

“I’m sure you’ve noted all the private meetings I’ve had scheduled of late,” Arthur said.

“I certainly have noticed a great deal of time on your agenda you’ve told me nothing about,” Merlin remarked. 

He’d spent some time speculating about the purpose of Arthur’s unofficial audiences each time another occurred, but he’d been too wrapped up in his daily duties and his lovers to remember to ask about them.

“Some of them have been with Geoffrey and Gaius. I’ve requested their assistance with a project doing research about magic, especially in regard to its history and use in Camelot.”

Merlin knew as much from Gaius already. “What do you mean to do with what they learn?” he asked. He measured out a serving of wine for them both and passed Arthur a goblet.

“I mean to use whatever they find as evidence in an official inquiry into the laws set down in The Purge. I have them looking for people willing to testify from their own experiences as well,” Arthur explained. 

Now that was interesting, Merlin thought. He straightened in his chair. “To build a case in favour of lifting the ban,” he said.

“Yes, if all goes well.”

The process would be slow going, but every goal required first steps. These initial plans would pave the way for Albion. Excitement bubbled within Merlin and made sitting still an effort. He took a bite of his roll to ground himself in the moment. 

“You’re not even crowned, and I’m already proud of the king you will be,” Merlin said. He sipped from his goblet, washing down the bread, and realised that what he had thought was wine was actually a fruit juice darkened with blackberries. Arthur had begun requesting similar beverages more frequently after learning of Merlin’s fondness for them. “Gods, I can actually imagine it. Do you think there will be many people who come forward?”

“There are a handful of people I believe I can count on already,” Arthur said. “Gaius and Geoffrey will both agree to it. As trusted voices within the council, I’ll have them go first. And I hoped you would consent to give your testimony. Your mother as well, if she’s willing.”

Picturing himself speaking about his magic in front of the entire court caused a swirl of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. Yet aiding Arthur in restoring magic to the land was exactly what he was meant to do. 

Apprehension turned his hands restless, so he busied himself with slicing his piece of chicken into smaller sections. He glanced at Arthur as he set the knife down.

Not wanting his silence to communicate reluctance, Merlin hurried to reply as Arthur made to speak as well. “Of course we will,” he said. “I could not deny you or our destiny.”

Relief shone through Arthur’s smile. “Good,” he said. “But that’s not all I’ve been up to.”

“Oh?” Merlin prompted.

“I’ve also been inviting the councilors to individual meetings,” Arthur said. “I think I’ve won them enough that we need not hide our relationship anymore. There’s one more safeguard I want to put in place before we make the knowledge public, but it won’t take long.”

“Safeguard?”

“You’ll see.”

“Fine, have your mystery,” Merlin said. He finished the last of his juice and poured himself another cup. “I look forward to kissing you in front of Ephram.”

“Of all things, why?”

“In the spirit of spite and malice, naturally,” Merlin said. “He and his oaf friends will watch me marry the king and queen while he's lucky to lead a patrol.” 

“How vengeful of you.”  
  
“Mmm,” Merlin agreed. “You know I loathe a bully.”

“Far be it from me to refuse you the satisfaction,” Arthur said. He hid his smile behind his goblet but amusement was plain in his tone.

“I’ve been thinking too,” Merlin said, shifting the conversation to a consideration weighing on his mind. “I’d like to tell the rest of our friends about my magic. But I want to talk to Gwaine first.”

Merlin had expected Arthur to protest, but he accepted the suggestion readily.

“We’ll be more effective as a group if they know,” Arthur said. “If you’d like, you could borrow Gwaine from training whenever I’m leading drills.”

**\---:|||:---**

Later, after returning the dinner tray and dishes to the kitchens, Merlin planned to check off a few minor chores in Arthur’s chambers that evening. Excalibur could do with sharpening and a batch of washing needed to be taken to the laundresses. He might lay another layer of protection charms on Arthur’s armour as well, depending on Arthur’s level of occupation.

When Merlin came in, Arthur stood at his dressing table, likely washing off stray ink after completing the last of his paperwork. He scooped up the basket of dirty clothes and headed back toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Arthur asked with his back still turned.

“I was going to drop off the laundry.”

“It’s not terribly urgent, is it?”

“Not yet.”

“Then it’ll keep until later,” Arthur said. “I have another request for you. Come here.”

Once Merlin had crossed the room to him, Arthur held out his razor. It was an exemplary piece of craftsmanship, a Roman-style novacila with bronze filigree that was part of a matching set also including a bowl and brush for shaving cream and a comb. 

Merlin took it and fit his fingers into the grips, stepping up behind Arthur. He brought his arms around Arthur and pressed their bodies together, front to back. They made a fetching image in the mirror.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Arthur asked, thinking of the cream.

Merlin laid his chin on Arthur’s shoulder, nuzzling his nose into Arthur’s neck. “No, I appreciate the gesture, but I’ve never needed a blade for anything,” Merlin said. He set the razor back on the table before bringing his hand up to rest at the hollow of Arthur’s throat. He trailed two fingers slowly up toward Arthur’s chin. “Would you permit that?”

Merlin felt it as Arthur swallowed. Their eyes met in the mirror.

“Do it,” Arthur answered. He watched as Merlin’s eyes flashed gold.

As suddenly as blinking, the skin beneath Merlin’s fingertips was smooth. Arthur had not once looked away.

“When you do magic, your eyes are like a forge fire, so lovely, so full of promise,” Arthur said. He reached back to take Merlin’s hands. “Watching you stokes something within me I cannot name. I can almost feel our path laid out before us, sure and inevitable.”

“It is while we walk together,” Merlin said. The words were an oath, a pronouncement.

They could both feel the charge of the moment, and the tension seemed to vibrate like the air after a lightning strike. Merlin led Arthur toward the bed, opened the side table drawer, pulled out the vial of oil, and pressed it into Arthur’s palms. 

“Please?” Merlin asked.

Arthur cupped Merlin’s face, rubbing his thumb over the ridge of his cheekbone. He sank one hand into Merlin’s hair, angling his head for a kiss, and used the other to tug at Merlin’s belt. His lips spelled out his answer against Merlin’s mouth.  
  
Yes, Merlin found, tasted like wine and Arthur and belonging.

They didn’t rush through undressing each other. Taking the time to savour each revelation of skin left them both breathless and eager. By the time they tumbled onto the mattress, their cocks had already started leaking precome.

Arthur pushed at Merlin’s shoulder, wordlessly requesting he roll onto his back. As soon as Merlin settled into the new position he splayed his thighs, leaving space for Arthur to kneel between his legs. Arthur pried the stopper out of the bottle of oil and slicked his fingers, preparing to work Merlin open. 

This much was familiar to them. They had each fingered the other before, usually while sucking one another off. But the sense of anticipation as Arthur’s cock fit against Merlin’s hole was new. The short, jerky thrusts Arthur used to breach him were new. The whine that rose from within him as Arthur bottomed out were new.

Merlin stared into Arthur’s wide eyes and said, “You can move.”

The first snap of Arthur’s hips made him ache, but the discomfort relented soon after. When the head of Arthur’s cock dragged along that sensitive spot inside him, he bucked up against Arthur with a moan. His fingers scrabbled at Arthur’s back, urging him down again.

“Yes, Arthur, right there,” Merlin said. “Yes, like that. Oh, gods.”

Arthur adjusted his angle without breaking the rhythm they’d built between them. His body was steady in his relentless motion, but his expression was open and unguarded. Merlin could read the vulnerability and adoration written there and answered with tender kisses, attentive hands, and encouraging words.

As their pleasure mounted, Arthur took to repeating Merlin’s name between increasingly sloppy kisses. Merlin’s thighs had started to tremble. He hooked his ankles around Arthur’s waist but couldn’t hold himself still enough to stay that way. 

“Arthur, you feel so good,” Merlin breathed. “Fuck, Arthur!”

Orgasm, when it came, rolled through Merlin until he felt engulfed in bliss. Except for the startled hitches in his breath, Merlin remained silent as his whole body shook. The strength of it shot stripes of come along his chest. A pulse or two even hit his chin. 

Arthur looked at him wonderingly, and he gasped as the tempo of his thrusts stuttered. He stilled. His cock was buried as deep as he could get as he spent inside Merlin. The muscles in the arm holding him up were taut with strain, but the fingers he brushed across Merlin’s sternum, slipping through the wet there, were gentle. 

“You are so beautiful,” Arthur whispered. His lips traveled along Merlin’s jaw, kissing the come off his face. The taste lingered when their mouths met.

Merlin could hardly think through his exhilaration. He’d just come, but he wanted Arthur again so fiercely he didn’t know how he’d stand it. When Arthur pulled out of him, he felt disappointed enough that he almost made a noise in protest, but Arthur only shifted them to their sides and slid back inside.

They were both still mostly hard, their breathing barely settled, when Arthur started rocking his hips again. Merlin pushed back to meet him. The second round was languid and luxurious, full of soft caresses, lush kisses, and murmured endearments.

**\---:|||:---**

The next time Arthur commanded the knights in training, Merlin made a point to complete his tasks for the morning quickly, expedited with a smidge or two of magic. He headed down to the pitch intent on following Arthur’s suggestion to solicit Gwaine for a private conversation.

Merlin watched Arthur step over to adjust a newer recruit’s stance, demonstrating the correct position. He waited to interrupt until Arthur had moved away to observe the entire field again. When he spoke, he pitched his voice loud enough for the conversation to be audible above the clamour of movement and steel.

“My lord, I have an errand to run in the Darkling Woods for Gaius,” Merlin said. “Might I request Sir Gwaine to accompany me?”   
  
He carried a satchel and a basket to lend credence to the excuse.

“You may certainly take him off my hands,” Arthur said. As Merlin stopped next to him, he pressed their upper arms together briefly. “He’s in particularly good form today and is making all his sparring partners irascible.” 

Gwaine had started toward them once he’d heard his name and had drawn close enough to catch the remark.

“Scared I’ll beat you, princess?” Gwaine asked.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed at the challenge. “Sir Gwaine, do you need to delay Merlin to refresh your memory on the virtue of humility?”

“No, my lord, I remember your demonstration from last week vividly.”

“I should hope so.”

“Come now, Arthur,” Gwaine said. “You know you’d be bored to tears without Merlin and me to keep you on your toes.”

“The whole insubordinate lot of you.”

“That’s not fair to Leon,” Merlin said.

A surprised huff of amusement punched out of Arthur before full-blown laughter seised him. He had doubled over and started drawing looks before he attempted to reign himself in. He straightened and cleared his throat.

“Get out of here before you damage my reputation as a strict and serious instructor any further,” Arthur said.

**\---:|||:---**

Gwaine waited until they’d passed through the city gates to question the odd circumstances.

“So, what’s in the Darkling Woods?” he asked as he steered his horse around a dip in the main road.

“Feverfew, valerian, mugwort, willow bark, and bandits,” Merlin said. “But we’re not actually going to the Darkling Woods.”

Gwaine turned in the saddle to be sure Merlin saw his raised eyebrow. “Oh, are we off on a secret mission? Not that skiving off training with you isn’t a delight no matter the reason,” Gwaine said.

“Not quite,” Merlin said. “We’ll probably find a few herbs while we’re out, but I wanted to talk to you. About a topic best broached outside the citadel for now.”

“Whatever could merit such secrecy? Unless—” Gwaine fell silent. Merlin couldn’t see his expression, so he urged Saffron to catch up as Gwaine continued. “But if it’s that, I can afford to wait a little longer. Where are we off to then?”

Merlin noted Gwaine’s vague remark but didn’t comment on it.

“There’s a clearing not too far off that ought to be private enough,” Merlin said. “You can usually find mushrooms and a few other useful plants there, which will do for our cover story. It’s actually where I met Lancelot.”  
  
“I bet there’s a tale in that,” Gwaine said.

“You have no idea,” Merlin deadpanned. He nudged Saffron toward a path through the forest, and Gwaine followed his lead, keeping their mounts abreast with ease.

“That’s something we ought to do sometime. Have a night out to reminisce. Swap origin stories.”  
  
“You’d actually share yours?”

Gwaine smiled at Merlin’s incredulous tone. “If everyone else shows me theirs, it’s only fair to show them mine,” he said. “Besides, their reactions will be priceless.”

Merlin laughed. “Who do you think will be more surprised, Arthur or Leon?”

“Leon, no question. I sometimes wonder if Arthur suspects,” Gwaine said. “Who knows how extensive that fancy royal education of his went into minor houses of allied kingdoms?”

“Why would that matter?” Merlin asked.

They slowed their pace as they entered the trees, needing time for their eyes to adjust to the dimmer light cast with the foliage filtering out much of the mid-morning sun. The trail narrowed ahead, forcing the horses to proceed in single file, but they rode close enough to continue their conversation.

“My necklace,” Gwaine answered. “I know he’s seen it, and it bears my family’s crest. He may even have met my brothers.”  
  
“I didn’t know you had brothers.”

“A sister too. Gisela is the oldest of us and all the more snobby for it. Next came Gareth and then me. Gaheris is the baby.”  
  
“How’d you end up on your own?” Merlin asked.

“I told you my father left us with hardly more than two coins to rub together. As I understand it, his penchant for gambling and steep debts got him disinherited from the estate ages before he died, so it all went to my aunt, that wretched, stone-hearted hag,” Gwaine explained. Merlin heard him snap a twig from a bramble of bushes and toss it deeper into the woods. “She felt no sympathy for our plight but deigned to foster us children for the sake of reputation. She only agreed to shelter my mother while she was with child.”

“That’s terrible,” Merlin said. 

Soon after they ducked beneath a low-hanging branch, the path widened so that they could ride side by side again. Merlin could see the clearing up ahead.  
  
“Aye. After Gaheris was born, Gisela decided she preferred the life of a commoner over the indignity of accepting a lowly position in another lady’s house,” Gwaine said while they rode the last few feet. Merlin had absorbed enough of the hand signals used in hunting and combat to motion for them to stop without interrupting. 

As they dismounted, Gwaine added, “She moved out with mam. Gareth didn’t have the luxury of choice, being the oldest son, and was already a squire.”

After they secured horses, he paused for Merlin to point out a few of the plants they needed. He resumed his recounting while beginning to pluck sage leaves.  
  
“I was a terror growing up. As soon as she could, my dear old auntie sent me packing with the excuse that I was a bad influence on Gaheris,” Gwaine said. A bitter expression twisted his mouth. “So, I lived with mam and Gisela for a time. I kept instigating fights with arrogant noblemen and beat them in duels to get my way, which didn’t help mam keep a job.” 

Gwaine deposited his handful of herbs in the basket beside Merlin. Merlin could tell that Gwaine found the subject of his family difficult and felt grateful for his trust. He also knew Gwaine wouldn’t want undue commiseration, so he let him talk without responding.

Gwaine only spoke again once he’d returned to picking at a patch of chamomile. “I knew she’d have it easier without me. Less grief. One less mouth to feed. So, I left and started traveling just as I was when you met me.”

While Merlin listened, they’d gathered more supplies for remedies and potions than Gaius required and a few mushrooms besides. Whether in a poultice or a stew pot, none of it would go to waste in any case. He gestured toward a couple of fallen trees with trunks large enough to lean against comfortably.

“You don’t keep in touch with them?” Merlin asked as they sat down.

“I haven’t heard from Gisela since mam passed. I had no contact with Gareth and Gaheris at all once I left. They’re both probably accomplished knights of Caerleon by now,” Gwaine said. He brushed his hands off on his trousers and rested his elbows on his knees. “But enough about me. What did you want to talk about?” 

Merlin didn’t feel nervous over the prospect of confessing to Gwaine. He’d never had cause to doubt his confidence in Gwaine’s loyalty and couldn’t imagine his incorrigibly mischievous friend rejecting him. Having gone through the experience twice already, he felt more at ease mustering his words.

“I wish I could have told you this in the beginning, but I didn’t want to have another person I cared for in danger for keeping my secrets. Now that Arthur knows, there’s no reason to hide it from those we trust,” Merlin said. He’d started feeling a slight edge of anticipation and took a deep breath to shake it off. “So, I wanted to tell you I have magic.”  
  
Gwaine looked taken aback. “Arthur knows?” he asked, which was not the question Merlin expected.

“Yes.”

“I should have guessed,” Gwaine said. “The two of you wouldn’t have gotten your act together and admitted your feelings if you hadn’t told him.”

Merlin thought of the comment Gwaine had made to himself as they started out. Adding that to his present minimal reaction made Merlin suspicious.

“You already knew, I take it?” Merlin asked.  
  
Gwaine chuckled. “Of course I knew,” he said. “I happen to be very observant, and the way you lobbed those plates around in the brawl at the Hog’s Head was hard to miss, you know.”   
  
It was Merlin’s turn to be taken aback. “You could have told me that you saw,” he chided.   
  
“I didn’t want to confront you over something that could get you killed,” Gwaine said. “I figured you’d let me know when you wanted me to know.”

Merlin sighed. “Well, this is the most anti-climatic confession I’ve had so far.”

“Sorry to disappoint, my friend,” Gwaine said while smiling unrepentantly. “Who else knows?”  
  
Merlin listed his handful of confidants and explained the gist of the circumstances leading to their knowledge of his magic.

“Do you plan to tell the others?” Gwaine asked.

“Yes, actually, but I wanted to talk to you first,” Merlin said. He shifted and his hand landed on the basket handle laying on the ground next to him. He rolled the strap between his fingers as he considered what he wanted to say. “You’re the only person I’ve told that didn’t make me worry beforehand. I always knew I’d have your friendship regardless and that I could count on you to stand by me no matter what. I trust you. I hope you know it.”

“I do know it just as I know you’d offer the same support to me,” Gwaine said. He stretched his legs out. “You know what that means, right?”

“What?”

“We’re stuck with each other for life.”

Merlin couldn’t stop his grin and didn’t want to. “I can imagine a host of things much worse than that,” he said.

“You know, I have a whole list of pranks we have to pull,” Gwaine said. “I’ve seen you start fires, trip bandits, and erase our tracks. Now, you’ve got to show me the fun stuff.”

“What do you have in mind?” Merlin asked.

“Can you magic up a pint?”  
  
Merlin shrugged. “I could, but I wouldn’t trust drinking it without finding a proper spell first,” he said. 

Gwaine hummed contemplatively. “There’s this orchard in Mercia that grows the best apples in all the kingdoms. Could you summon one of them?”

“Without having been there myself, I don’t think so,” Merlin said. “The distance might be a problem as well.”

“Damn, that’s a pity. Those things are delicious. Crisp. I can only imagine what they’d be like in a pie, but I digress,” Gwaine said. He poked at the dirt with a stick while he thought. “What’s the wildest thing you’ve ever done?”  
  
“I haven’t had much opportunity to experiment,” Merlin said. He dismissed several thoughts, including Nimueh’s death and conjuring a flower for Freya from nothing, not wanting to dredge up the associated feelings. “I once transformed a statue into a living dog.”

“Ah, there’s an idea!” With the stick, Gwaine pointed at a stone peeking from the ground between them. “Turn that rock into a figurine of Percival dressed as a tavern wench.”

Merlin might be able to do that. “I’ll give it a go,” he said. “But no promises.”

As he considered how to phrase the spell, Merlin raised the stone from the dirt and willed it clean. He closed his eyes, picturing the desired result in his mind, and raised his hand.  
  
“Bibod þæt stán forhwierfe belimpan angelícness wēne,” he said.

Merlin opened his eyes, curious to see the outcome.

On the ground, next to the hole the stone had occupied, stood a striking likeness of Percival reduced to the size of perhaps six inches. The miniature muscular arms bulged from the sleeves of a low cut dress complete with an apron. A tiny tankard curled in one chiseled fist topped off the image.

Gwaine gaped at the effigy for a long moment. Once he closed his mouth, a gleeful expression overtook his features. “Oh, gods, this is the best thing I’ve ever seen!” 

He shuffled forward to scoop the statuette up and turned it in his hand until the stone Percival faced Merlin as well. “What can I get you boys today?” Gwaine mimicked, dropping his voice to a gruff register.

Their laughter rang through the glade, startling birds into flight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy my writing and Merlin/Arthur/Gwen, check out [the oneshot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26776057) I submitted for Frottage Fest. 
> 
> My tumblr post for Ch. 3 can be [reblogged here.](https://unmarkedinlife.tumblr.com/post/631542305531281408/secret-of-change-pairing-merlinarthurgwen) I'm unmarkedinlife and balaszafiros over there, if you wanna drop in to chat.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! Feedback would be greatly appreciated. If you'd like any additional tags included or spot any errors, please let me know, and I'll update asap.


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